•  . 


LIBRARY   OF 

HENRY  C.  FALL. 


AND  KATHARINE  A.  FALL 

yxn  r  - 

..UP. 


Dumber 
Date  of  Purchase 
Place     _^C^ 
Cost  Vr/ 


THE    NEGROES    CARRYING    PAUL    AND   VIRGINIA. 


PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA, 


BY 


BEBNARBIN   DE   SAINT   PIEERE, 


Blrmotr  of  fyt  Slntjjor, 


EMBELLISHED   WITH    NUMEROUS   ENGRAVINGS. 


PHILADELPHIA : 

IIOGAN  &  THOMPSON. 

1852. 


Stereotyped  by   SLOTE   *    Moo  NET,    Philadelphia 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Infancy  of  Paul  and  Virginia, 37 

Youth  of  Paul  and  Virginia, 45 

The  Negro  Slave  at  Virginia's  feet, 53 

The  Passage  of  the  Torrent, 61 

The  Children  found  by  Fidelio, 67 

The  Negroes  carrying  Paul  and  Virginia 73 

Virginia  and  her  Goats,   . 81 

Paul  presenting  Virginia  with  the  Bird's  Nest, 85 

The  reading  of  the  Bible, 91 

Virginia  attending  on  the  Sick  Poor, 97 

Virginia  flying  to  her  Mother  for  refuge,     ........  109 

The  reading  of  her  Aunt's  Letter, 119 

Last  Interview  of  Paul  and  Virginia,     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .  135 

Interior  of  a  Forest 159 

Ihe  Body  of  Virginia  found  in  the  Sand, 195 


1* 


2051237 


PREFACE. 

IN  introducing  to  the  Public  the  present  edition 
of  this  well  known  and  affecting  Tale, — the  cJief 
d'oeuvre  of  its  gifted  author,  the  Publishers  take  oc- 
casion to  say,  that  it  affords  them  no  little  gratifi- 
cation, to  apprise  the  numerous  admirers  of  "  Paul 
and  Virginia,"  that  the  entire  work  of  St.  Pierre  is 
now  presented  to  them.  All  the  previous  editions 
have  been  disfigured  by  interpolations,  and  muti- 
lated by  numerous  omissions  and  alterations,  which 
have  had  the  effect  of  reducing  it  from  the  rank  of 
a  Philosophical  Tale,  to  the  level  of  a  mere  story 
for  children. 

Of  the  merits  of  "  Paul  and  Virginia,"  it  is  hardly 
necessary  to  utter  a  word ;  it  tells  its  own  story  elo- 
quently and  impressively,  and  in  a  language  simple, 
natural  and  true,  it  touches  the  common  heart  of 
the  world.  There  are  but  few  works  that  have 
obtained  a  greater  degree  of  popularity,  none  are 
more  deserving  it;  and  the  Publishers  cannot 

7 


VI 11  PREFACE. 

therefore  refrain  from  expressing  a  hope  that  their 
efforts  in  thus  giving  a  faithful  transcript  of  the 
work, — an  acknowledged  classic  by  the  European 
world, — may  be,  in  some  degree,  instrumental  in 
awakening  here,  at  home,  a  taste  for  those  higher 
works  of  Fancy,  which,  while  they  seek  to  elevate 
and  strengthen  the  understanding,  instruct  and 
purify  the  heart.  It  is  in  this  character  that  the 
Tale  of  "  Paul  and  Virginia"  ranks  pre-eminent. 


MEMOIR 

OF 

BERNARDIN  DE   ST.   PIERRE, 


LOVE  of  Nature,  that  strong  feeling  of  enthu- 
siasm which  leads  to  profound  admiration  of  the 
whole  works  of  creation,  belongs,  it  may  be  pre- 
sumed, to  a  certain  peculiarity  of  organization,  and 
has,  no  doubt,  existed  in  different  individuals  from 
the  beginning  of  the  world.  The  old  poets  and  phi- 
losophers, romance  writers  and  troubadours,  had  all 
looked  upon  Nature  with  observing  and  admiring 
eyes.  They  have  most  of  them  given  incidentally 
charming  pictures  of  spring,  of  the  setting  sun,  of 
particular  spots,  and  of  favourite  flowers. 

There  are  few  writers  of  note,  of  any  country  or 
of  any  age,  from  whom  quotations  might  not  be 
made  in  proof  of  the  love  with  which  they  regarded 
Nature.  And  this  remark  applies  as  much  to  reli- 
gious and  philosophic  writers  as  to  poets, — equally 
to  Plato,  St.  Francois  de  Sales,  Bacon,  and  Fenelon, 
as  to  Shakspeare,  Racine,  Calderon,  or  Burns ;  for 
from  no  really  philosophic  or  religious  doctrine  can 
the  love  of  the  works  of  Nature  be  excluded. 

But  before  the  days  of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau, 
Buffon,  and  Bernardin  de  St.  Pierre,  this  love  of 
Nature  had  not  been  expressed  in  all  its  intensity, 
ix 


X  •  MEMOIR   OF 

Until  their  day,  it  had  not  been  written  on  exclu- 
sively. The  lovers  of  Nature  were  not,  till  then, 
as  they  may  perhaps  since  be  considered,  a  sect 
apart.  Though  perfectly  sincere  in  all  the  adora- 
tions they  offered,  they  were  less  entirely,  and  cer- 
tainly less  diligently  and  constantly,  her  adorers. 

It  is  the  great  praise  of  Bernardin  de  St.  Pierre, 
that  coming  immediately  after  Rousseau  and  Buffon, 
and  being  one  of  the  most  proficient  writers  of  the 
same  school,  he  was  in  no  degree  their  imitator, 
but  perfectly  original  and  new.  He  intuitively 
perceived  the  immensity  of  the  subject  he  intended 
to  explore,  and  has  told  us  that  no  day  of  his 
life  passed  without  his  collecting  some  valuable  ma- 
terials for  his  writings.  In  the  divine  works  of 
Na.ture,  he  diligently  sought  to  discover  her  laws. 
It  was  his  early  intention  not  to  begin  to  write  until 
he  had  ceased  to  observe ;  but  he  found  observation 
endless,  and  that  he  was  "  like  a  child,  who  with 
a  shell  digs  a  hole  in  the  sand  to  receive  the  waters 
of  the  ocean."  He  elsewhere  humbly  says,  that 
not  only  the  general  history  of  Nature,  but  even 
that  of  the  smallest  plant,  was  far  beyond  his  abi- 
lity. Before,  however,  speaking  further  of  him  as 
an  author,  it  will  be  necessary  to  recapitulate  the 
chief  events  of  his  life. 

HENRI-JACQUES  BERNARDIN  DE  ST.  PIERRE,  was 
born  at  Havre  in  1737.  He  always  considered 
himself  descended  from  that  Eustache  de  St.  Pierre, 
who  is  said  by  Froissart,  (and  I  believe  by  Froissart 
only),  to  have  so  generously  offered  himself  as  a 
victim  to  appease  the  wrath  of  Edward  the  Third 
against  Calais.  He,  with  his  companions  in  virtue, 
it  is  also  said, -was  saved  by  the  intercession  of 


BERNARDIN    DE    ST.    PIERRE.  XI 

Queen  Philippa.  In  one  of  his  smaller  works,  Ber- 
nardin  asserts  this  -descent,  and  it  was  certainly  one 
of  which  he  might  be  proud.  Many  anecdotes  are 
related  of  his  childhood,  indicative  of  the  youthful 
author, — of  his  strong  love  of  Nature,  and  his  hu- 
manity to  animals. 

That  "  the  child  is  father  of  the  man,"  has 
been  seldom  more  strongly  illustrated.  There  is 
a  story  of  a  cat,  which,  when  related  by  him  many 
years  afterwards  to  Rousseau,  caused  that  philoso- 
pher to  shed  tears.  At  eight  years  of  age,  he  took 
the  greatest  pleasure  in  the  regular  culture  of  his 
garden  ;  and  possibly  then  stored  up  some  of  the 
ideas  which  afterwards  appeared  in  the  "  Fraisier." 
His  sympathy  with  all  living  things  was  extreme. 

In  u  Paul  and  Virginia,"  he  praises,  with  evident 
satisfaction,  their  meal  of  milk  and  eggs,  which  had 
not  cost  any  animal  its  life.  It  has  been  remarked, 
and  possibly  with  truth,  that  every  tenderly  dis- 
posed heart,  deeply  imbued  with  a  love  of  Nature, 
is  at  times  somewhat  Braminical.  St.  Pierre's  cer- 
tainly was. 

When  quite  young,  he  advanced  with  a  clenched 
fist  towards  a  carter  who  was  ill-treating  a  horge. 
And  when  taken  for  the  first  time,  by  his  father, 
to  Rouen,  having  the  towers  of  the  cathedral  point- 
ed out  to  him,  he  exclaimed,  "  My  God  !  how  high 
they  fly."  Every  one  present  naturally  laughed. 
Bernard  in  had  only  noticed  the  flight  of  some  swal- 
lows who  had  built  their  nests  there.  He  thus 
early  revealed  those  instincts  which  afterwards  be- 
came the  guidance  of  his  life :  the  strength  of 
which  possibly  occasioned  his  too  great  indifference 
to  all  monuments  of  art.  The  love  of  study  and 


Xll  MEMOIR   OF 

of  solitude  were  also  characteristics  of  his  child- 
hood. His  temper  is  said  to  have  been  moody, 
impetuous,  and  intractable.  Whether  this  faulty 
temper  may  not  have  been  produced  or  rendered 
worse  by  mismanagement,  cannot  now  be  ascertain- 
ed. It,  undoubtedly  became  afterwards,  to  St. 
Pierre  a  fruitful  source  of  misfortune  and  of  woe. 
The  reading  of  voyages  was  with  him,  even 
in  childhood,  almost  a  passion.  At  twelve  years 
of  age,  his  whole  soul  was  occupied  by  Robinson 
Crusoe  and  his  island.  His  romantic  love  of  ad- 
venture seeming  to  his  parents  to  announce  a  pre- 
dilection in  favour  of  the  sea,  he  was  sent  by  them 
with  one  of  his  uncles  to  Martinique.  But  St. 
Pierre  had  not  sufficiently  practised  the  virtue  of 
obedience  to  submit,  as  was  necessary,  to  the  disci- 
pline of  a  ship.  He  was  afterwards  placed  with  the 
Jesuits  at  Caen,  with  whom  he  made  immense  pro- 
gress in  his  studies.  But,  it  is  to  be  feared,  he  did 
not  conform  too  well  to  the  regulations  of  the  college, 
for  he  conceived,  from  that  time,  the  greatest  de- 
testation for  places  of  public  education.  And  this 
aversion  he  has  frequently  testified  in  his  writings. 
While  devoted  to  his  books  of  travels,  he  in  turn 
anticipated  being  a  Jesuit,  a  missionary  or  a  martyr ; 
but  his  family  at  length  succeeded  in  establishing 
him  at  Rouen,  where  he  completed  his  studies  with 
brilliant, success,  in  1757.  He  soon  after  obtained 
a  commission  as  an  engineer,  with  a  salary  of  one 
hundred  louis.  In  this  capacity  he  was  sent  (1760) 
to  Dusseldorf,  under  the  command  of  Count  St. 
Germain.  This  was  a  career  in  which  he  might 
have  acquired  both  honour  and  fortune ;  but,  most 
unhappily  for  St.  Pierre,  he  looked  upon  the  use- 


BERNARDIN   DE   ST.    PIERRE.  XUl 

ful  and  necessary  etiquettes  of  life  as  so  many 
unworthy  predjudices.  Instead  of  conforming  to 
them.,  he  sought  "to  trample  on  them.  In  addition, 
he  evinced  some  disposition  to  rebel  against  his 
commander,  and  was  unsocial  with  his  equals.  It 
is  not,  therefore,  to  be  wondered  at,  that  at  this 
unfortunate  period  of  his  existence,  he  made  himself 
enemies ;  or  that,  notwithstanding  his  great  talents, 
or  the  coolness  he  had  exhibited  in  moments  of 
danger,  he  should  have  been  sent  back  to  France, 
Unwelcome,  under  these  circumstances,  to  his 
family,  he  was  ill  received  by  all. 

It  is  a  lesson  yet  to  be  learned,  that  genius  gives 
no  charter  for  the  indulgence  of  error, — a  truth  yet 
to  be  remembered,  that  only  a  small  portion  of  the 
world  will  look  with  leniency  on  the  failings  of  the 
highly-gifted ;  and,  that  from  themselves,  the  conse- 
quences of  their  own  actions  can  never  be  averted. 
It  is  ^ et,  alas !  to  be  added  to  the  convictions  of  the 
ardent  in  mind,  that  no  degree  of  excellence  in 
science  or  literature,  not  even  the  immortality  of  a 
name,  can  exempt  its  possessor  from  obedience  to 
moral  discipline;  or  give  him  happiness,  unless 
"  temper's  image"  be  stamped  on  his  daily  words 
and  actions.  St.  Pierre's  life  was  sadly  embittered 
by  his  own  conduct.  The  adventurous  life  he  led 
after  his  return  from  Dusseldorf,  some  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  which  exhibited  him  in  an  unfavour- 
able light  to  others,  tended,  perhaps,  to  tinge  his 
imagination  with  that  wild  and  tender  melancholy 
so  prevalent  in  his  writings.  A  prize  in  the  lottery 
had  just  doubled  his  very  slender  means  of  existence, 
when  he  obtained  the  appointment  of  geographical 
engineer,  and  was  sent  to  Malta.  The  Knights  of 


XIV  MEMOIR   OF 

the  Order  were  at  this  time  expecting  to  be  attacked 
by  the  Turks.  Having  already  been  in  the  service, 
it  was  singular  that  St.  Pierre  should  have  had  the 
imprudence  to  sail  without  his  commission.  He 
thus  subjected  himself  to  a  thousand  disagreeables, 
for  the  officers  would  riot  recognize  him  as  one  of 
themselves.  The  effects  of  their  neglect  on  his 
mind  were  tremendous ;  his  reason  for  a  time 
seemed  almost  disturbed  by  the  mortifications  he 
suffered.  After  receiving  an  insufficient  indemnity 
for  the  expenses  of  his  voyage,  St.  Pierre  returned 
to  France,  there  to  endure  fresh  misfortunes. 

Not  being  able  to  obtain  any  assistance  from  the 
ministry  or  his  family,  he  resolved  on  giving  lessons 
in  the  mathematics.  But  St.  Pierre  was  less  adapted 
than  most  others  for  succeeding  in  the  apparently 
easy,  but  really  ingenious  and  difficult,  art  of  teach- 
ing. When  education  is  better  understood,  it  will 
be  more  generally  acknowledged,  that,  to  impart 
instruction  with  success,  a  teacher  must  possess  deep- 
er intelligence  than  is  implied  by  the  profoundest 
skill  in  any  one  branch  of  science  pr  of  art.  All 
minds,  even  to  the  youngest,  require,  while  being 
taught,  the  utmost  compliance  and  consideration ; 
and  these  qualities  can  scarcely  be  properly  exer- 
cised without  a  true  knowledge  of  the  human  heart, 
united  to  much  practical  patience.  St.  Pierre,  at 
this  period  of  his  life,  certainly  did  not  possess  them. 
It  is  probable  that  Rousseau,  when  he  attempted 
in  his  youth  to  give  lessons  in  music,  not  knowing 
any  thing  whatever  of  music,  was  scarcely  less 
fitted  for  the  task  of  instruction,  than  St.  Pierre 
with  all  his  mathematical  knowledge.  The  pressure 
of  poverty  drove  him  to  Holland.  He  was  well 


BERXARDIN    DE    ST.    PIERRE.  XV 

received  at  Amsterdam,  by  a  French  refugee  named 
Mustel,  who  edited  a  popular  journal  there,  and 
who  procured  him  employment,  with  handsome  re- 
muneration. St.  Pierre  did  not,  however,  remain 
long  satisfied  with  this  quiet  mode  of  existence. 
Allured  by  the  encouraging  reception  given  by 
Catherine  II.  to  foreigners,  he  set  out  for  St.  Peters- 
burg. Here,  until  he  obtained  the  protection  of 
the  Marechal  de  Munich,  and  the  friendship  of 
Duval,  he  had  again  to  contend  with  poverty.  The 
latter  generously  opened  to  him  his  purse,  and  by 
the  Marechal  he  was  introduced  to  Villebois,  the 
Grand  Master  of  Artillery,  and  by  him  presented 
to  the  Empress.  St.  Pierre  was  so  handsome,  that 
by  some  of  his  friends  it  was  supposed,  perhaps,  too, 
hoped,  that  he  would  supersede  Orloff  in  the  favour 
of  Catherine.  But  more  honourable  illusions,  though 
they  were  but  illusions,  occupied  his  own  mind. 
He  neither  sought  nor  wished  to  captivate  the  Em- 
press. His  ambition  was  to  establish  a  republic  on 
the  shores  of  the  lake  Aral,  of  which  in  imitation 
of  Plato  or  Rousseau,  he  was  to  be  the  legislator. 
Pre-occupied  with  the  reformation  of  despotism, 
be  did  not  sufficiently  look  into  his  own  heart,  or 
seek  to  avoid  a  repetition  of  the  same  errors  that 
had  already  changed  friends  into  enemies,  and  been 
such  a  terrible  barrier  to  his  success  in  life.  His 
mind  was  already  morbid,  and  in  fancying  that 
others  did  not  understand  him,  he  forgot  that  he 
did  not  understand  others.  The  Empress,  with  the 
rank  of  captain,  bestowed  on  him  a  grant  of  fifteen 
hundred  francs ;  but  when  General  Dubosquet  pro- 
posed to  take  him  with  him  to  examine  the  military 
position  of  Finland,  his  only  anxiety  seemed  to  bo 


'XVI  MEMOIR   OF 

to  return  to  France :  still  he  -went  to  Finland ; 
and  his  own  notes  of  his  occupations  and  experi- 
ments on  that  expedition  prove,  that  he  gave  him- 
self up  in  all  diligence  to  considerations  of  attack 
and  defence.  He,  who  loved  Nature  so  intently, 
seems  only  to  have  seen  in  the  extensive, and  majes- 
tic forests  of  the  north,  a  theatre  of  war.  In  this 
instance,  he  appears  to  have  stifled  every  emotion  of 
admiration,  and  to  have  beheld,  alike,  cities  and 
countries  in  his  character  of  military  surveyor. 

On  his  retum  to  St.  Petersburg,  he  found  his 
protector  Villebois,  disgraced.  St  Pierre  then  re- 
solved on  espousing  the  cause  of  the  Poles.  He 
went  into  Poland  with  a  high  reputation, — that  of 
having  refused  the  favours  of  despotism,  to  aid  the 
cause  of  liberty.  But  it  was  his  private  life,  rather 
than  his  public  career,  that  was  affected  by  his 
residence  in  Poland.  The  Princess  Mary  fell  in 
love  with  him,  and,  forgetful  of  all  considerations, 
quitted  her  family  to  reside  with  him.  Yielding, 
however,  at  length,  to  the  entreaties  of  her  mother, 
she  returned  to  her  home.  St.  Pierre,  filled  with 
regret,  resorted  to  Vienna ;  but,  unable  to  support 
the  sadness  which  oppressed  him,  and  imagining 
that  sadness  to  be  shared  by  the  Princess,  he  soon 
went  back  to  Poland.  His  return  was  still  more 
sad  than  his  departure ;  for  he  found  himself  re- 
garded by  her  who  had  once  loved  him,  as  an 
intruder.  It  is  to  this  attachment  he  alludes  so 
touchingly  in  one  of  his  letters.  "  Adieu  !  friends 
dearer  than  the  treasures  of  India !  Adieu  !  forests 
of  the  North,  that  I  shall  never  see  again  ! — tender 
friendship,  and  the  still  dearer  sentiment  which 
surpassed  it! — days  of  intoxication  and  of  happiness 


BERNARDIN    DE    ST.    PIERRE.  XV11 

adieu !  adieu  !  We  live  but  for  a  day,  to  die  during 
a  whole  life !" 

This  letter  appears  to  one  of  St.  Pierre's  most 
partial  biographers,  as  if  steeped  in  tears ;  and  he 
speaks  of  his  romantic  and  unfortunate  adventure 
in  Poland,  as  the  ideal  of  a  poet's  love. 

"  To  be,"  says  M.  Sainte-Beuve,  "  a  great  poet, 
and  loved  before  he  had  thought  of  glory  !  To  ex- 
hale the  first  perfume  of  a  soul  of  genius,  believing 
himself  only  a  lover !  To  reveal  himself,  for  the 
first  time,  entirely,  but  in  mystery !" 

In  his  enthusiasm,  M.  Sainte-Beuve  loses  sight 
of  the  melancholy  sequel,  which  must  have  left  so 
sad  a  remembrance  in  St.  Pierre's  own  mind.  His 
suffering,  from  this  circumstance,  may  perhaps  have 
conduced  to  his  making  Virginia  so  good  and  true, 
a'rid  so  incapable  of  giving  pain. 

In  1766,  he  returned  to  Havre ;  but  his  relations 
were  by  this  time  dead  or  dispersed,  and  after  six 
years  of  exile,  he  found  himself  once  more  in  his 
own  country,  without  employment  and  destitute  of 
pecuniary  resources. 

The  Baron  de  Breteuil  at  length  obtained  for  him 
a  commission  as  Engineer  to  the  Isle  of  France, 
whence  he  returned  in  1771.  In  this  interval,  his 
heart  and  imagination  doubtless  received  the  germs 
of  his  immortal  wrorks.  Many  of  the  events,  in- 
deed, of  the  "  Voyage  a  1'Ile  de  France,"  are  to  be 
found  modified  by  imagined  circumstances  in  "  Paul 
and  Virginia."  He  returned  to  Paris  poor  in  purse, 
but  rich  in  observation  and  mental  resources,  and 
resolved  to  devote  himself  to  literature.  By  the 
Baron  de  Breteuil  he  was  recommended  to  D'Alem- 
bert,  who  procured  a  publisher  for  his  "  Voyage," 


XVill  MEMOIR   OP 

and  also  introduced  him  to  Mile,  de  rEspinasse. 
But  no  one,  in  spite  of  his  great  beauty,  was  so  ill 
calculated  to  shine  or  please  in  society  as  St.  Pierre. 
His  manners  were  timid  and  embarrassed,  and,  un- 
less to  those  with,  whom  he  was  very  intimate,  he 
scarcely  appeared  intelligent. 

It  is  sad  to  think.,  that  misunderstanding  should 
prevail  to  such  an  extent,  and  heart  so  seldom 
really  speak  to  heart,  in  the  intercourse  of  the 
world,  that  the  most  humane  may  appear  cruel, 
and  the  sympathizing  indifferent.  Judging  of  Mile 
de  1'Espinasse  from  her  letters,  and  the  testimony 
of  her  contemporaries,  it  seems  quite  impossible  that 
she  could  have  given  pain  to  any  one,  more  parti- 
cularly to  a  man  possessing  St.  Pierre's  extraordi- 
nary talent  and  profound  sensibility.  Both  she  and 
D' Alembert  were  capable  of  appreciating  him ;  but 
the  society  in  which  they  moved  laughed  at  his 
timidity,  and  the  tone  of  raillery  in  which  they 
often  indulged  was  not  understood  by  him.  It  is 
certain  that  he  withdrew  from  their  circle  with 
wounded  and  mortified  feelings,  and,  in  spite  of  an 
explanatory  letter  from  D' Alembert,  did  not  return 
to  it.  The  inflictors  of  all  this  pain,  in  the  mean- 
time, were  possibly  as  unconscious  of  the  meaning 
attached  to  their  words,  as  were  the  birds  of  old  of 
the  augury  drawn  from  their  flight. 

St.  Pierre,  in  his  "  Preambule  de  1' Arcadie,"  has 
pathetically  and  eloquently  described  the  deplora- 
ble state  of  his  health  and  feelings,  after  frequent  hu- 
miliating disputes  and  disappointments  had  driven 
him  from  society ;  or  rather,  when,  like  Rousseau, 
he  was  "  self-banished"  from  it, 

"  I  was  struck,"  he  says,  "  with  an  extraordinary 


BERNARDIN    DE    ST.    PIERRE.  XIX 

malady.  Streams  of  fire,  like  lightning,  flashed 
before  my  eyes;  every  object  appeared  to  me  double, 
or  in  motion  :  like  (Edipus,  I  saw  two  suns.  .  .  In 
the  finest  day  of  summer,  I  could  not  cross  the  Seine 
in  a  boat  without  experiencing  intolerable  anxiety. 
If,  in  a  public  garden,  I  merely  passed  by  a  piece 
of  water,  I  suffered  from  spasms  and  a  feeling  of 
horror.  I  could  not  cross  a  garden  in  which  many 
people  were  collected :  if  they  looked  at  me,  I 
immediately  imagined  they  were  speaking  ill  of 
me."  It  was  during  this  state  of  suffering,  that 
he  devoted  himself  with  ardour  to  collecting  and 
making  use  of  materials  for  that  work  which  was 
to  give  glory  to  his  name. 

It  was  only  by  perseverance,  and  disregarding 
many  rough  and  discouraging  receptions,  that  he 
succeeded  in  making  acquaintance  with  Rousseau, 
whom  he  so  much  resembled.  St.  Pierre  devoted 
himself  to  his  society  with  enthusiasm,  visiting  him 
frequently  and  constantly,  till  Rousseau  departed  for 
Ermenonville.  It  is  not  unworthy  of  remark,  that 
both  these  men,  such  enthusiastic  admirers  of  Na- 
ture and  the  natural  in  all  things,  should  have 
possessed  factitious  rather  than  practical  virtue,  and 
a  wisdom  wholly  unfitted  for  the  world.  St.  Pierre 
asked  Rousseau,  in  one  of  their  frequent  rambles, 
if,  in  delineating  St.  Preux,  he  had  not  intended  to 
represent  himself.  "No,"  replied  Rousseau,  "St. 
Preux  is  not  what  I  have  been,  but  what  I  wished 
to  be."  St.  Pierre  would  most  likely  have  given 
the  same  answer,  had  a  similar  question  been  put 
to  him  with  regard  to  the  Colonel  in  "  Paul  and 
Virginia."  This  at  least,  appears  the  sort  of  old 
age  he  loved  to  contemplate,  and  wished  to  realize. 


XX  MEMOIR   OF 

For  six  years,  he  worked  at  his  "  Etudes,"  and 
with  some  difficulty  found  a  publisher  for  them. 
M.  Didot,  a  celebrated  typographer,  whose  daughter 
St.  Pierre  afterwards  married,  consented  to  print  a 
manuscript  which  had  been  declined  by  many  others. 
He  was  well  rewarded  for  the  undertaking.  The 
success  of  the  "  Etudes  de  la  Nature"  surpassed  the 
most  sanguine  expectation,  even  of  the  author. 
Four  years  after  its  publication,  St.  Pierre  gave  to 
the  world  "  Paul  and  Virginia,"  which  had  for  some 
time  been  lying  in  his  portfolio.  He  had  tried  its 
effect,  in  manuscript,  on  persons  of  different  charac- 
ters and  pursuits.  They  had  given  it  no  applause ; 
but  all  had  shed  tears  at  its  perusal :  and  perhaps, 
few  works  of  a  decidedly  romantic  character  have 
ever  been  so  generally  read,  or  so  much  approved. 
Among  the  great  names  whose  admiration  of  it  is 
on  record,  may  be  mentioned  Napoleon  and  Hum- 
boldt. 

In  1789,  he  published  "Les  Voeux  d'un  Solitaire/' 
and  "  La  Suite  des  Voeux."  By  the  Moniteur  of 
the  day,  these  works  were  compared  to  the  cele- 
brated pamphlet  of  Sieyes,  — "  Qu'est-ce  que  le 
tiers  etat?"  which  then  absorbed  all  the  public 
favour.  In  1791,  "La  Chaumiere  Indienne"  was 
published  :  and  in  the  following  year,  about  thirteen 
days  before  the  celebrated  10th  of  August,  Louis 
XVI.  appointed  St.  Pierre  superintendant  of  the 
"  Jardin  des  Plantes."  Soon  afterwards,  the  King, 
on  seeing  him,  complimented  him  on  his  writings, 
and  told  him  he  was  happy  to  have  found  a  worthy 
successor  to  Buffon. 

Although  deficient  in  the  exact  knowledge  of  the 
sciences,  and  knowing  little  of  the  world,  St.  Pierre 


BERKARDIN  DE   ST.   PIERRE.  XXI 

was,  by  his  simplicity,  and  the  retirement  in  which 
he  lived,  well  suited,  at  that  epoch,  to  the  situation. 
About  this  time,  and  when  in  his  fifty-seventh  year, 
he  married  Mile.  Didot. 

In  1796,  he  became  a  member  of  the  French 
Academy,  and,  as  was  just,  after  his  acceptance  of 
this  honour,  he  wrote  no  more  against  literary  socie- 
ties. On  the  suppression  of  his  place,  he  retired 
to  Essonne.  It  is  delightful  to  follow  him  there, 
and  to  contemplate  his  quiet  existence.  His  days 
flowed  on  peaceably,  occupied  in  the  publication  of 
"  Les  Harmonies  de  la  Nature,"  the  republication 
of  his  earlier  works,  and  the  composition  of  some 
lesser  pieces.  He  himself  affectingly  regrets  an 
interruption  to  these  occupations.  On  being  ap- 
pointed Instructor  to  the  Normal  School,  he  says, 
"  I  am  obliged  to  hang  my  harp  on  the  willows 
of  my  river,  and  to  accept  an  employment  useful 
to  my  family  and  my  country.  I  am  afflicted  at 
having  to  suspend  an  occupation  which  has  given 
me  so  much  happiness." 

He  enjoyed  in  his  old  age,  a  degree  of  opulence, 
which,  as  much  as  glory,  had  perhaps  been  the 
object  of  his  ambition.  In  any  case,  it  is  gratifying 
to  reflect,  that  after  a  life  so  full  of  chance  and 
change,  he  was,  in  his  latter  years,  surrounded  by 
much  that  should  accompany  old  age.  His  day  of 
storms  and  tempests  was  closed  by  an  evening  of 
repose  and  beauty. 

Amid  many  other  blessings,  the  elasticity  of  his 
mind  was  preserved  to  the  last.  He  died  at  Eragny 
sur  1'Oise,  on  the  21st  of  January,  1814.  The  stir- 
ring events  which  then  occupied  France,  or  rather 
the  whole  world,  caused  his  death  to  be  little  noticed 


XX11  MEMOIR   OF 

at  the  time.  The  Academy  did  not,  however, 
neglect  to  give  him  the  honour  due  to  its  members. 
Mons.  Parse val  Grand  Maison  pronounced  a  de- 
served euloglum  on  his  talents,  and  Mons.  Aignan, 
also,  the  customary  tribute,  taking  his  seat  as  his 
successor. 

Having  himself  contracted  the  habit  of  confiding 
his  griefs  and  sorrows  to  the  public,  the  sanctuary 
of  his  private  life  was  open  alike  to  the  discussion 
of  friends  and  enemies.  The  biographer,  who 
wishes  to  be  exact,  and  yet  set  down  nought  in 
malice,  is  forced  to  the  contemplation  of  his  errors. 
The  secret  of  many  of  these,  as  well  as  of  his  mise- 
ries, seems  revealed  by  himself  in  this  sentence : 
"  I  experience  more  pain  from  a  single  thorn,  than 
pleasure  from  a  thousand  roses."  And  elsewhere, 
"The  best  society  seems  to  me  bad,  if  I  find  in  it 
one  troublesome,  wicked,  slanderous,  envious,  or 
perfidious  person."  Now,  taking  into  consideration 
that  St.  Pierre  sometimes  imagined  persons  who 
were  really  good,  to  be  deserving  of  these  strong  and 
very  contumacious  epithets,  it  would  have  been 
difficult  indeed  to  find  a  society  in  which  he  could 
have  been  happy.  He  was,  therefore,  wise,  in  seek- 
ing retirement,  and  indulging  in  solitude.  His 
mistakes, — for  they  were  mistakes, — arose  from  a 
too  quick  perception  of  evil,  united  to  an  exquisite 
and  diffuse  sensibility.  When  he  felt  wounded  by 
a  thorn,  he  forgot  the  beauty  and  perfume  of 
the  rose  to  which  it  belonged,  and  from  which  per- 
haps it  could  not  be  separated.  And  he  was  ex- 
posed (as  often  happens)  to  the  very  description  of 
trials  that  were  least  in  harmony  with  his  defects. 
Few  dispositions  could  have  run  a  career  like  his, 


BERNARDIN   DE   ST.    PIERRE.  XX111 

and  have  remained  unscathed.  But  one  less  tender 
than  his  own  would  have  been  less  soured  by  it.  For 
many  years,  he  bore  about  with  him  the  conscious- 
ness of  unacknowledged  talent.  The  world  can- 
not be  blamed  for  not  appreciating  that  which  had 
never  been  revealed.  But  we  know  not  what  the 
jostling  and  elbowing  of  that  world,  in  the  mean- 
time, may  have  been  to  him — how  often  he  may 
have  felt  himself  unworthily  treated — or  how  far 
that  treatment  may  have  preyed  upon  and  corroded 
his  heart.  Who  shall  say  that  with  this  conscious- 
ness there  did  not  mingle  a  quick  and  instinctive  per- 
ception of  the  hidden  motives  of  action, — that  he 
did  not  sometimes  detect,  where  others  might  have 
been  blind,  the  under-shuffling  of  the  hands,  in  the 
by-play  of  the  world  ? 

Through  all  his  writings,  and  throughout  his 
correspondence,  there  are  beautiful  proofs  of  the 
tenderness  of  his  feelings, — the  most  essential 
quality,  perhaps,  in  any  writer.  It  is  at  least,  one 
that  if  not  possessed,  can  never  be  attained.  The 
familiarity  of  his  imagination  with  natural  objects, 
when  he  was  living  far  removed  from  them,  is  re- 
markable, and  often  affecting. 

"  I  have  arranged,"  he  says  to  Mr.  Henin,  his 
friend  and  patron,  "  very  interesting  materials,  but 
it  is  only  with  the  light  of  Heaven  over  me  that 
I  can  recover  my  strength.  Obtain  for  me  a  rabbit's 
hole,  in  which  I  may  pass  the  summer  in  the  coun- 
try." And  again,  "  With  the  first  violet,  I  shall 
come  to  sec  you."  It  is  soothing  to  find,  in  passages 
like  these,  such  pleasing  and  convincing  evidence 
that 

"  Nature  never  did  betray, 
The  heart  that  loved  her." 


XXIV  MEMOIR   OF 

In  the  noise  of  a  great  city,  in  the  midst  of 
annoyances  of  many  kinds  these  images,  impressed 
with  quietness  and  beauty,  came  back  to  the  mind 
of  St.  Pierre,  to  cheer  and  animate  him. 

In  alluding  to  his  miseries,  it  is  but  fair  to  quote 
a  passage  from  his  "Voyage,"  which  reveals  his  fond 
remembrance  of  his  native  land.  "  I  should  ever 
prefer  my  own  country  to  every  other,"  he  says, 
"  not  because  it  was  more  beautiful,  but  because 
I  was  brought  up  in  it.  Happy  he,  who  sees  again 
the  places  where  all  was  loved,  and  all  was  lovely  ! 
— the  meadows  in  which  he  played,  and  the  orchard 
that  he  robbed !" 

He  returned  to  this  country,  so  fondly  loved  and 
deeply  cherished  in  absence,  to  experience  only 
trouble  and  difficulty.  Away  from  it,  he  had 
yearned  to  behold  it, — to  fold  it,  as  it  were,  once 
more  to  his  bosom.  He  returned  to  feel  as  if  ne- 
glected by  it,  and  all  his  rapturous  emotions  were 
changed  to  bitterness  and  gall.  His  hopes  had 
proved  delusions — his  expectations,  mockeries.  Oh ! 
who  but  must  look  with  charity  and  mercy  on  all 
discontent  and  irritation  consequent  on  such  a  depth 
of  disappointment :  on  what  must  have  then  appear- 
ed to  him  such  unmitigable  woe.  Under  the  influ- 
ence of  these  saddened  feelings,  his  thoughts  flew 
back  to  the  island  he  had  left,  to  place  all  beauty, 
as  well  as  all  happiness,  there ! 

One  great  proof  that  he  did  beautify  the  distant, 
may  be  found  in  the  contrast  of  some  of  the  de- 
scriptions in  the  "  Voyage  a  1'Ile  de  France,"  and 
those  in  "  Paul  and  Virginia."  That  spot,  which 
when  peopled  by  the  cherished  creatures  of  his 
imagination,  he  described  as  an  enchanting  and 


BERNARDIN    DE    ST.    PIERRE.  XXV 

delightful  Eden,  he  had  previously  spoken  of  as  a 
"  rugged  country  covered  with  rocks," — "  a  land  of 
Cyclops  blackened  by  fire."  Truth,  probably,  lies 
between  the  two  representations ;  the  sadness  of 
exile  having  darkened  the  one,  and  the  exuberance 
of  his  imagination  embellished  the  other. 

St.  Pierre's  merit  as  an  author  has  been  too  long 
and  too  universally  acknowledged,  to  make  it  need- 
ful that  it  should  be  dwelt  on  here.  A  careful  re- 
view of  the  circumstances  of  his  life  induces  the 
belief,  that  his  writings  grew  (if  it  may  be  per- 
mitted so  to  speak)  out  of  his  life.  In  his  most 
imaginative  passages,  to  whatever  height  his  fancy 
soared,  the  starting  point  seems  ever  from  a  fact. 
The  past  appears  to  have  been  always  spread  out 
before  him  when  he  wrote,  like  a  beautiful  land- 
scape, on  which  his  eye  rested  with  complacency, 
and  from  which  his  mind  transferred  and  idealized 
some  objects,  without  a  servile  imitation  of  any. 
When  at  Berlin,  he  had  had  it  in  his  power  to 
marry  Virginia  Tabenheiin ;  and  in  Russia,  Mile 
de  la  Tour,  the  niece  of  General  Dubosquet,  would 
have  accepted  his  hand.  He  was  too  poor  to  marry 
either.  A  grateful  recollection  caused  him  to  be- 
stow the  names  of  the  two  on  his  most  beloved 
creation.  Paul  was  the  name  of  a  friar,  with  whom 
he  had  associated  in  his  childhood,  and  whose  life 
he  wished  to  imitate.  How  little  had  the  owners 
of  these  names  anticipated  that  they  were  to  be- 
come the  baptismal  appellations  of  half  a  generation 
in  France,  and  to  be  re-echoed  through  the  world 
to  the  end  of  time  ! 

It  was  St.  Pierre  who  first  discovered  the  po- 
verty of  language  with   regard  to  picturesque  de- 
3 


XXVI  MEMOIR  OF 

scriptions.  In  his  earliest  work,  the  often-quoted 
"  Voyage,"  he  complains,  that  the  terms  for  descri- 
bing nature  are  not  yet  invented.  "Endeavour," 
he  says,  "  to  describe  a  mountain  in  such  a  manner 
that  it  may  be  recognised.  When  you  have  spoken 
of  its  base,  its  sides,  its  summit,  you  will  have  said 
all !  But  what  variety  there  is  to  be  found  in  those 
swelling,  lengthened,  flattened,  or  cavernous  forms ! 
It  is  only  by  periphrasis  that  all  this  can  be  ex- 
pressed. The  same  difficulty  exists  for  plains  and 
valleys.  But  if  you  have  a  palace  to  describe,  there 
is  no  longer  any  difficulty.  Every  moulding  has  its 
appropriate  name. 

It  was  St.  Pierre's  glory,  in  some  degree,  to 
triumph  over  this  dearth  of  expression.  Few  au- 
thors ever  introduced  more  new  tenns  into  descrip- 
tive writing :  yet  are  his  innovations  ever  chastened, 
and  in  good  taste.  His  style,  in  its  elegant  sim- 
plicity, is,  indeed,  perfection.  It  is  at  once  sonorous 
and  sweet,  and  always  in  harmony  with  the  senti- 
ment he  would  express,  or  the  subject  he  would 
discuss.  Chenier  might  well  arm  himself  with 
"Paul  and  Virginia,"  and  the  "Chaumiere  Indienne," 
in  opposition  to  those  writers,  who,  as  he  said,  made 
prose  unnatural,  by  seeking  to  elevate  it  into  verse. 

The  "  Etudes  de  la  Nature"  embraced  a  thousand 
different  subjects,  and  contained  some  new  ideas 
on  all.  It  is  to  the  honour  of  human  nature,  that 
after  the  uptearing  of  so  many  sacred  opinions,  a 
production  like  this,  revealing  the  chain  of  connec- 
tion through  the  works  of  Creation,  and  the  Creator 
in  his  works,  should  have  been  hailed,  as  it  was, 
with  enthusiasm. 

His  motto,  from  his  favourite  poet  Virgil,  "Taught 


BEBNARDIN   DE    ST.    PIERRE.  XXV11 

by  calamity,  I  pity  the  unhappy,"  won  for  him, 
perhaps,  many  readers.  And  in  its  touching  illu- 
sions, the  unhappy  may  have  found  suspension  from 
the  realities  of  life,  as  well  as  encouragement  to 
support  its  trials.  For,  throughout,  it  infuses  ad- 
miration of  the  arrangements  of  Providence,  and  a  de- 
sire for  virtue.  More  than  one  modern  poet  may  be 
supposed  to  have  drawn  a  portion  of  his  inspiration, 
from  the  "  Etudes."  As  a  work  of  science  it  con- 
tains many  errors.  These,  particularly  his  theory 
of  the  tides,*  St.  Pierre  maintained  to  the  last,  and 
so  eloquently,  that  it  was  said  at  the  time,  to  be 
impossible  to  unite  less  reason  with  more  logic. 

In  "  Paul  and  Virginia,"  he  was  supremely  for- 
tunate in  his  subject.  It  was  an  entirely  new  crea- 
tion, uninspired  by  any  previous  work ;  but  which 
gave  birth  to  many  others,  having  furnished  the 
plot  to  six  theatrical  pieces.  It  was  a  subject  to 
which  the  author  could  bring  all  his  excellences  as 
a  writer  and  a  man,  while  his  deficiencies  and 
defects  were  necessarily  excluded.  In  no  manner 
could  he  incorporate  politics,  science,  or  misappre- 
hension of  persons,  while  his  sensibility,  morals, 
and  wonderful  talent  for  description,  were  in  perfect 
accordance  with,  and  ornaments  to  it.  Lemontey  and 
Sainte-Beuve  both  consider  success  to  be  inseparable 
from  the  happy  selection  of  a  story  so  entirely  in 
harmony  with  the  character  of  the  author;  and 
that  the  most  successful  writers  might  envy  him 
so  fortunate  a  choice.  Buonaparte  was  in  the  habit 
of  saying,  whenever  he  saw  St.  Pierre,  "  M.  Ber- 
nardin,  when  do  you  mean  to  give  us  more  Pauls 

*  Occasioned,  according  to  St.  Pierre,  by  the  melting  of  the  ice  at 
the  Poles. 


XXV111   MEMOIR   OF    BERNARDIN    DE    ST.    PIERRE. 

and  Virginias,  and  Indian  Cottages  ?  You  ought  to 
give  us  some  every  six  months." 

The  "  Indian  Cottage,"  if  not  quite  equal  in  in- 
terest to  "  Paul  and  Virginia,"  is  still  a  charming 
production,  and  does  great  honour  to  the  genius  of 
its  author.  It  abounds  in  antique  and  Eastern 
gems  of  thought.  Striking  and  excellent  compari- 
sons are  scattered  through  its  pages ;  and  it  is  de- 
lightful to  reflect,  that  the  following  beautiful  and 
solemn  answer  of  the  Paria  was,  with  St.  Pierre, 
the  result  of  his  own  experience  : — "  Misfortune  re*- 
sembles  the  Black  Mountain  of  Bember,  situated  at 
the  extremity  of  the  burning  kingdom  of  Lahore ; 
while  you  are  climbing  it,  you  only  see  before  you 
barren  rocks ;  but  when  you  have  reached  its  sum- 
mit, you  see  heaven  above  your  head,  and  at  your 
feet  the  kingdom  of  Cachemere." 

When  this  passage  was  written,  the  rugged  and 
sterile  rock  had  been  climbed  by  its  gifted  author. 
.He  had  reached  the  summit, — his  genius  had  been 
rewarded,  and  he  himself  saw  the  heaven  he  wish- 
ed to  point  out  to  others.  SARAH  JONES. 


***  For  the  facts  contained  in  this  brief  Memoir,  I  am  indebted 
to  St.  Pierre's  own  works,  to  the  "  Biographic  Universelle,"  to  the 
"Essai  sur  la  Vie  et  les  Ouvrages  de  Bernardin  de  St.  Pierre,"  by 
M.  Aime  Martin,  and  to  the  very  excellent  and  interesting  "  Notice 
Historique  et  Litteraire,"  of  M.  Sainte-Beuve. 


PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 


SITUATE  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  mountain 
which  rises  above  Port  Louis,  in  the  Mauritius,  upon 
a  piece  of  land  bearing  the  marks  of  former  cultiva- 
tion, are  seen  the  ruins  of  two  small  cottages.  These 
ruins  are  not  far  from  the  centre  of  a  valley,  formed 
by  immense  rocks,  and  which  opens  only  towards 
the  north.  On  the  left  rises  the  mountain  called 
the  Height  of  Discovery,  whence  the  eye  marks  the 
distant  sail  when  it  first  touches  the  verge  of  the 
horizon,  and  whence  the  signal  is  given  when  a 
vessel  approaches  the  island.  At  the  foot  of  this 
mountain  stands  the  town  of  Port  Louis.  On  the 
right  is  formed  the  road  which  stretches  from  Port 
Louis  to  the  Shaddock  Grove,  where  the  church 
bearing  that  name  lifts  its  head,  surrounded  by  its 
avenues  of  bamboo,  in  the  middle  of  a  spacious 
plain ;  and  the  prospect  terminates  in  a  forest  ex- 
tending to  the  furthest  bounds  of  the  island.  The 
front  view  presents  the  bay,  denominated  the  Bay 
of  the  Tomb ;  a  little  on  the  right  is  seen  the  Cape 
of  Misfortune;  and  beyond  rolls  the  expanded 
29  3* 


30  PAUL  AND   VIRGINIA. 

ocean,  on  the  surface  of  which  appear  a  few  unin- 
habited islands ;  and,  among  others,  the  Point  of 
Endeavour,  which  resembles  a  bastion  built  upon 
the  flood. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  valley  which  presents 
these  various  objects,  the  echoes  of  the  mountain 
incessantly  repeat  the  hollow  murmurs  of  the  winds 
that  shake  the  neighbouring  forests,  and  the  tumul- 
tuous dashing  of  the  waves  which  break  at  a  dis- 
tance upon  the  cliffs  ;  but  near  the  ruined  cottages 
all  is  calm  and  still,  and  the  only  objects  which 
there  meet  the  eye  are  rude  steep  rocks,  that  rise 
like  a  surrounding  rampart.  Large  clumps  of  trees 
grow  at  their  base,  on  their  rifted  sides,  and  even 
on  their  majestic  tops,  where  the  clouds  seem  to 
repose.  The  showers,  which  their  bold  points 
attract,  often  paint  the  vivid  colours  of  the  rainbow 
'on  their  green  and  brown  declivities,  and  swell  the 
sources  of  the  little  river  which  flows  at  their  feet, 
called  the  river  of  Fan-Palms.  Within  this  inclo- 
sure  reigns  the  most  profound  silence.  The  waters, 
the  air,  all  the  elements  are  at  peace.  Scarcely 
does  the  echo  repeat  the  whispers  of  the  palm-trees, 
spreading  their  broad  leaves,  the  long  points  of 
which  are  gently  agitated  by  the  winds.  A  soft 
light  illumines  the  bottom  of  this  deep  valley,  on 
which  the  sun  shines  only  at  noon.  But,  even  at 
break  of  day,  the  rays  of  light  are  thrown  on  the 
surrounding  rocks;  and  their  sharp  peaks,  rising 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  31 

above  the  shadows  of  the  mountain,  appear  like 
tints  of  gold  and  purple  gleaming  upon  the  azure 
sky. 

To  this  scene  I  loved  to  resort,  as  I  could  here 
enjoy  at  once  the  richness  of  an  unbounded  land- 
scape, and  the  charm  of  uninterrupted  solitude.  One 
day,  when  I  was  seated  at  the  foot  of  the  cottages, 
and  contemplating  their  ruins,  a  man,  advanced  in 
years,  passed  near  the  spot.  He  was  dressed  in  the 
ancient  garb  of  the  island,  his  feet  were  bare,  and 
he  leaned  upon  a  staff  of  ebony :  his  hair  was  white, 
and  the  expression  of  his  countenance  was  dignified 
and  interesting.  I  bowed  to  him  with  respect;  he 
returned  the  salutation;  and,  after  looking  at  me 
with  some  earnestness,  came  and  placed  himself 
upon  the  hillock  on  which  I  was  seated.  Encouraged 
by  this  mark  of  confidence  I  thus  addressed  him : 
"  Father,  can  you  tell  me  to  whom  those  cottages 
once  belonged  ?" — "  My  son,"  replied  the  old  man, 
"  those  heaps  of  rubbish,  and  that  un tilled  land, 
were,  twenty  years  ago,  the  property  of  two  fami- 
lies, who  then  found  happiness  in  this  solitude. 
Their  history  is  affecting ;  but  what  European,  pur- 
suing his  way  to  the  Indies,  will  pause  one  moment 
to  interest  himself  in  the  fate  of  a  few  obscure  in- 
dividuals ?  What  European  can  picture  happiness 
to  his  imagination  amidst  poverty  and  neglect? 
The  curiosity  of  mankind  is  only  attracted  by  the 
history  of  the  great,  and  yet  from  that  knowledge 


32  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

• 

little  use  can  be  derived." — "  Father,"  I  rejoined, 
"  from  your  manner  and  your  observations,  I  per- 
ceive that  you  have  acquired  much  experience  of 
human  life.  If  you  have  leisure,  relate  to  me,  I 
beseech  you,  the  history  of  the  ancient  inhabitants 
of  this  desert ;  and  be  assured,  that  even  the  men 
who  are  most  perverted  by  the  prejudices  of  the 
world,  find  a  soothing  pleasure  in  contemplating 
that  happiness  which  belongs  to  simplicity  and  vir- 
tue." The  old  man,  after  a  short  silence,  during 
which  he  leaned  his  face  upon  his  hands,  as  if  he 
were  trying  to  recall  the  images  of  the  past,  thus 
began  his  narration  : — 

Monsieur  de  la  Tour,  a  young  man  who  was  a 
native  of  Normandy,  after  having  in  vain  solicited 
a  commission  in  the  French  army,  or  some  support 
from  his  own  family,  at  length  determined  to  seek 
his  fortune  in  this  island,  where  he  arrived  in  1726. 
He  brought  hither  a  young  woman,  whom  he  loved 
tenderly,  and  by  whom  he  was  no  less  tenderly  be- 
loved. She  belonged  to  a  rich  and  ancient  family 
of  the  same  province :  but  he  had  married  her 
secretly  and  without  fortune,  and  in  opposition  to 
the  will  of  her  relations,  who  refused  their  consent 
because  he  was  found  guilty  of  being  descended  from 
parents  who  had  no  claims  to  nobility.  Monsieur 
de  la  Tour,  leaving  his  wife  at  Port  Louis,  embarked 
for  Madagascar,  in  order  to  purchase  a  few  slaves, 
to  assist  him  in  forming  a  plantation  on  this  island. 


PAUL    AND   VIRGINIA.  33 

He  landed  at  Madagascar  during  that  unhealthy 
season  which  commences  about  the  middle  of  Oc- 
tober ;  and  soon  after  his  arrival  died  of  the  pestilen- 
tial fever,  which  prevails  in  that  island  six  months 
of  the  year,  and  which  will  forever  baffle  the  at- 
tempts of  the  European  nations  to  form  establish- 
ments on  that  fatal  soil.  His  effects  were  seized 
upon  by  the  rapacity  of  strangers,  as  commonly 
happens  to  persons  dying  in  foreign  parts ;  and  his 
wife,  who  was  pregnant,  found  herself  a  widow  in  a 
country  where  she  had  neither  credit  nor  acquaint 
ance,  and  no  earthly  possession,  or  rather  support, 
but  one  negro  wroman.  Too  delicate  to  solicit  pro- 
tection or  relief  from  any  one  else  after  the  death 
of  him  whom  alone  she  loved,  misfortune  armed 
her  with  courage,  and  she  resolved  to  cultivate,  with 
her  slave,  a  little  spot  of  ground,  and  procure  for 
herself  the  means  of  subsistence. 

Desert  as  was  the  island,  and  the  ground  left  to 
the  choice  of  the  settler,  she  avoided  those  spots 
which  were  most  fertile  and  most  favorable  to  com- 
merce :  seeking  some  nook  of  the  mountain,  some 
secret  asylum  where  she  might  live  solitary  and 
unknown,  she  bent  her  way  from  the  town  towards 
these  rocks,  where  she  might  conceal  herself  from 
observation.  All  sensitive  and  suffering  creatures, 
from  a  sort  of  common  instinct,  fly  for  refuge  amidst 
their  pains  to  haunts  the  most  wild  and  desolate  ; 
as  if  rocks  could  forma  rampart  against  misfortune 
c 


34  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

— as  if  the  calm  of  Nature  could  hush  the  tumults 
of  the  soul.  That  Providence,  which  lends  its  sup- 
port when  we  ask  but  the  supply  of  our  necessary 
wants,  had  a  blessing  in  reserve  for  Madame  de  la 
Tour,  which  neither  riches  nor  greatness  can  pur- 
chase : — this  blessing  was  a  friend. 

The  spot  to  which  Madame  de  la  Tour  had  fled 
had  already  been  inhabited  for  a  year  by  a  young 
woman  of  a  lively,  good-natured  and  affectionate 
disposition.  Margaret  (for  that  was  her  name)  was 
born  in  Brittany,  of  a  family  of  peasants,  by  whom 
she  was  cherished  and  beloved,  and  with  whom  she 
might  have  passed  through  life  in  simple  rustic  hap- 
piness, if,  misled  by  the  weakness  of  a  tender  heart, 
she  had  not  listened  to  the  passion  of  a  gentleman 
in  the  neighbourhood,  who  promised  her  marriage. 
He  soon  abandoned  her,  and  adding  inhumanity  to 
seduction,  refused  to  insure  a  provision  for  the  child 
of  which  she  was  pregnant.  Margaret  then  deter- 
mined to  leave  forever  her  native  village,  and  retire, 
where  her  fault  might  be  concealed,  to  some  colony 
distant  from  that  country  where  she  had  lost-  the 
only  portion  of  a  poor  peasant  girl — her  reputation. 
With  some  borrowed  money  she  purchased  an  old 
negro  slave,  with  whom  she  cultivated  a  little  cor- 
ner of  this  district. 

Madame  de  la  Tour,  followed  by  her  negro  wo- 
man, came  to  this  spot,  where  she  found  Margaret 
engaged  in  suckling  her  child.  Soothed  and  charm- 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  35 

ed  by  the  sight  of  a  person  in  a  situation  somewhat 
similar  to  her  own,  Madame  de  la  Tour  related,  in 
a  few  words,  her  past  condition  and  her  present 
wants.  Margaret  was  deeply  affected  by  the  recital ; 
and  more  anxious  to  merit  confidence  than  to  create 
esteem,  she  confessed  without  disguise,  the  errors 
of  which  she  had  been  guilty.  "As  for  me,"  said  she, 
"  I  deserve  my  fate  :  but  you,  madam — you  !  at 
once  virtuous  and  unhappy" —  and,  sobbing,  she 
offered  Madame  de  la  Tour  both  her  hut  and  her 
friendship.  That  lady,  affected  by  this  tender  re- 
ception, pressed  her  in  her  arms,  and  exclaimed, — 
"  Ah  surely  Heaven  has  put  an  end  to  my  misfor- 
tunes, since  it  inspires  you,  to  whom  I  am  a  stranger, 
with  more  goodness  towards  me  than  I  have  ever 
experienced  from  my  own  relations  !" 

I  was  acquainted  with  Margaret :  and,  although 
my  habitation  is  a  league  and  a  half  from  hence, 
in  the  woods  behind  that  sloping  mountain,  I  con- 
sidered myself  as  her  neighbour.  In  the  cities  of 
Europe,  a  street,  even  a  simple  wall,  frequently 
prevents  members  of  the  same  family  from  meeting 
for  years ;  but  in  new  colonies  we  consider  those 
persons  as  neighbours  from  whom  we  are  divided 
only  by  woods  and  mountains ;  and  above  all  at  that 
period,  when  this  island  had  little  intercourse  with 
the  Indies,  vicinity  alone  gave  a  claim  to  friendship, 
and  hospitality  towards  strangers  seemed  less  a  duty 
than  a  pleasure.  No  sooner  was  I  informed  that  Mar- 


36  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

garet  had  found  a  companion,  than  I  hastened  to  her, 
in  the  hope  of  being  useful  to  my  neighbour  and  her 
guest.  I  found  Madame  de  la  Tour  possessed  of  all 
those  melancholy  graces  which,  by  blending  sym- 
pathy with  admiration  give  to  beauty  additional 
power.  Her  countenance  was  interesting,  expressive 
at  once  of  dignity  and  dejection.  She  appeared  to  be 
in  the  last  stage  of  her  pregnancy.  I  told  the  two 
friends  that  for  the  future  interests  of  their  children, 
and  to  prevent  the  intrusion  of  any  other  settler, 
they  had  better  divide  between  them  the  property 
of  this  wild,  sequestered  valley,  which  is  nearly 
twenty  acres  in  extent.  They  confided  that  task 
to  me,  and  I  marked  out  two  equal  portions  of  land. 
One  included  the  higher  part  of  this  enclosure,  from 
the  cloudy  pinnacle  of  that  rock,  whence  springs 
the  river  of  Fan-Palms,  to  that  precipitous  cleft 
which  you  see  on  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  and 
which,  from  its  resemblance  in  form  to  the  battle- 
ment of  a  fortress,  is  called  the  Embrasure.  It  is 
difficult  to  find  a  path  along  this  wild  portion  of 
the  enclosure,  the  soil  of  which  is  encumbered  with 
fragments  of  rock,  or  worn  into  channels  formed 
by  torrents ;  yet  it  produces  noble  trees,  and  in- 
numerable springs  and  rivulets.  The  other  portion 
of  land  comprised  the  plain  extending  along  the 
banks  of  the  river  of  Fan-Palms,  to  the  opening 
where  we  are  now  seated,  whence  the  river  takes 
its  course  between  those  two  hills,  until  it  falls  into 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  37 

the  sea.  You  may  still  trace  the  vestiges  of  some 
meadow  land ;  and  this  part  of  the  common  is  less 
rugged,  but  not  more  valuable  than  the  other ;  since 
in  the  rainy  season  it  becomes  marshy,  and  in  dry 
weather  is  so  hard  and  unyielding,  that  it  will 
almost  resist  the  stroke  of  the  pickaxe.  When  I  had 
thus  divided  the  property,  I  persuaded  my  neigh- 
bours to  draw  lots  for  their  respective  possessions. 
The  higher  portion  of  land,  containing  the  source 
of  the  river  of  Fan-Palms,  became  the  property  of 
Madame  de  la  Tour ;  the  lower,  comprising  the  plain 
on  the  banks  of  the  river,  was  allotted  to  Margaret ; 
and  each  seemed  satisfied  with  her  share.  They 
entreated  me  to  place  their  habitations  together, 
that  they  might  at  all  times  enjoy  the  soothing  inter- 
course of  friendship,  and  the  consolation  of  mutual 
kind  offices.  Margaret's  cottage  was  situated  near 
the  centre  of  the  valley,  and  just  on  the  boundary 
of  her  own  plantation.  Close  to  that  spot  I  built 
another  cottage  for  the  residence  of  Madame  de  la 
Tour ;  and  thus  the  two  friends,  while  they  possess- 
ed all  the  advantages  of  neighbourhood  lived  on  their 
own  property.  I  myself  cut  palisades  from  the 
mountain,  and  brought  leaves  of  fan-palms  from  the 
sea-shore  in  order  to  construct  those  two  cottages,  of 
which  you  can  now  discern  neither  the  entrance  nor 
the  roof.  Yet,  alas  !  there  still  remain  but  too  many 
traces  for  my  remembrance  !  Time,  which  so  rapidly 
destroys  the  proud  monuments  of  empires,  seems  in 
4 


38  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

this  desert  to  spare  those  of  friendship,  as  if  to  per- 
petuate my  regrets  to  the  last  hour  of  my  existence. 

As  soon  as  the  second  cottage  was  finished,  Ma- 
dame de  la  Tour  was  delivered  of  a  girl.  I  had 
been  the  godfather  of  Margaret's  child,  who  was 
christened  by  the  name  of  Paul.  Madame  de  la 
Tour  desired  me  to  perform  the  same  office  for  her 
child  also,  together  with  her  friend,  who  gave  her 
the  name  of  Virginia.  "  She  will  be  virtuous,"  cried 
Margaret,  "  and  she  will  be  happy.  I  have  only 
known  misfortune  by  wandering  from  virtue." 

About  the  time  Madame  de  la  Tour  recovered, 
these  two  little  estates  had  already  begun  to  yield 
some  produce,  perhaps  in  a  small  degree  owing  to 
the  care  which  I  occasionally  bestowed  on  their  im- 
provement, but  far  more  to  the  indefatigable  labours 
of  flie  two  slaves.  Margaret's  slave,  who  was  called 
Domingo,  was  still  healthy  and  robust,  though  ad- 
vanced in  years  :  he  possessed  some  knowledge,  and 
a  good  natural  understanding.  He  cultivated 
indiscriminately,  on  both  plantations,  the  spots  of 
ground  that  seemed  most  fertile,  and  sowed  what- 
ever grain  he  thought  most  congenial  to  each  par- 
ticular soil.  Where  the  ground  was  poor,  he  strewed 
maize ;  where  it  was  most  fruitful,  he  planted  wheat; 
and  rice  in  such  spots  as  were  marshy.  He  threw 
the  seeds  of  gourds  and  cucumbers  at  the  foot  of  the 
rocks,  which  they  loved  to  climb  and  decorate  with 
their  luxuriant  foliage.  In  dry  spots  he  cultivated 


IN-FANCY   OF   PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 


39 


PAUL  AKD  VIRGINIA.  41 

the  sweet  potatoe ;  the  cotton-tree  flourished  upon 
the  heights,  and  the  sugar-cane  grew  in  the  clayey 
soil.  He  reared  some  plants  .of  coffee  on  the  hills, 
where  the  grain,  although  small,  is  excellent.  His 
plantain-trees,  which  spread  their  grateful  shade  on 
the  banks  of  the  river,  and  encircled  the  cottages, 
yielded  fruit  throughout  the  year.  And  lastly,  Do- 
mingo, to  soothe  his  cares,  cultivated  a  few  plants 
of  tobacco.  Sometimes  he  was  employed  in  cutting 
wood  for  firing  from  the  mountain,  sometimes 
in  hewing  pieces  of  rock  within  the  enclosure,  in 
order  to  level  the  paths.  The  zeal  which  inspired 
him  enabled  him  to  perform  all  these  labours  with 
intelligence  and  activity.  He  was  much  attached 
to  Margaret,  and  not  less  to  Madame  de  la  Tour, 
whose  negro  woman,  Mary,  he  had  married  on  the 
birth  of  Virginia ;  and  he  was  passionately  fond  of 
his  wife.  Mary  was  born  at  Madagascar,  and  had 
there  acquired  the  knowledge  of  some  useful  arts. 
She  could  weave  baskets,  and  a  sort  of  stuff,  with 
long  grass  that  grows  in  the  woods.  She  was  active, 
cleanly,  and,  above  all,  faithful.  It  was  her  care 
to  prepare  their  meals,  to  rear  the  poultry,  and  go 
sometimes  to  Port  Louis,  to  sell  the  superfluous 
produce  of  these  little  plantations,  which  was  not, 
however,  very  considerable.  If  you  add  to  the  per- 
sonages already  mentioned  two  goats,  which  were 
brought  up  with  the  children,  and  a  great  dog,  which 
kept  watch  at  night,  you  will  have  a  complete  idea 


42  PAUL  AND   VIRGINIA. 

of  the  household,  as  well  as  of  the  productions  of 
these  two  little  farms. 

Madame  de  la  Tour  and  her  friend  were  con- 
stantly employed  in  spinning  cotton  for  the  use  of 
their  families.  Destitute  of  every  thing  which  their 
own  industry  could  not  supply,  at  home  they  went 
bare-footed  :  shoes  were  a  convenience  reserved  for 
Sunday,  on  which  day,  at  an  early  hour,  they  at- 
tended mass  at  the  church  of  the  Shaddock  Grove, 
which  you  see  yonder.  That  church  was  more 
distant  from  their  homes  than  Port  Louis ;  but  they 
seldom  visited  the  town,  lest  they  should  be  treated 
with  contempt  on  account  of  their  dress,  which 
consisted  simply  of  the  coarse  blue  linen  of  Bengal, 
usually  worn  by  slaves.  But  is  there,  in  that  ex- 
ternal deference  which  fortune  commands,  a  com- 
pensation for  domestic  happiness?  If  these  inte- 
resting women  had  something  to  suffer  from  the 
world,  their  homes  on  that  very  account  became 
more  dear  to  them.  No  sooner  did  Mary  and  Do- 
mingo, from  this  elevated  spot,  perceive  their  mis- 
tresses on  the  road  of  the  Shaddock  Grove,  than 
they  flew  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain  in  order  to 
help  them  to  ascend.  They  discerned  in  the  looks 
of  their  domestics  the  joy  which  their  return  ex- 
cited. They  found  in  their  retreat  neatness,  inde- 
pendence, all  the  blessings  which  are  the  recom- 
pense of  toil,  and  they  received  the  zealous  services 
which  spring  from  affection.  United  by  the  tie  of 


PAUL  AND   VIRGINIA.  43 

similar  wants,  and  the  sympathy  of  similar  misfor- 
tunes, they  gave  each  other  the  tender  names  of 
companion,  friend,  sister.  They  had  hut  one  will, 
one  interest,  one  table.  All  their  possessions  were 
in  common.  And  if  sometimes  a  passion  more  ar- 
dent than  friendship  awakened  in  their  hearts  the 
pang  of  unavailing  anguish,  a  pure  religion,  united 
with  chaste  manners,  drew  their  affections  towards 
another  life :  as  the  trembling  flame  rises  towards 
heaven,  when  it  no  longer  finds  any  aliment  on 
earth. 

The  duties  of  maternity  became  a  source  of  addi- 
tional happiness  to  these  affectionate  mothers,  whose 
mutual  friendship  gained  new  strength  at  the  sight 
of  their  children,  equally  the  offspring  of  an  ill-fated 
attachment.  They  delighted  in  washing  their  in- 
fants together  in  the  same  bath,  in  putting  them  to 
rest  in  the  same  cradle,  and  in  changing  the  mater- 
nal bosom  at  which  they  received  nourishment. 
"  My  friend,"  cried  Madame  de  la  Tour,  "  we  shall 
each  of  us  have  two  children,  and  each  of  our  chil- 
dren will  have  two  mothers."  As  two  buds  which 
remain  on  different  trees  of  the  same  kind,  after 
the  tempest  has  broken  all  their  branches,  produce 
more  delicious  fruit,  if  each,  separated  from  the 
maternal  stem,  be  grafted  on  the  neighbouring  tree, 
so  these  two  infants,  deprived  of  all  their  other  re- 
lations, when  thus  exchanged  for  nourishment  by 
those  who  had  given  them  birth,  imbibed  feelings 


44  PAUL   AND  VIRGINIA. 

of  affection  still  more  tender  than  those  of  son  and 
daughter,  brother  and  sister.  While  they  were  yet 
in  their  cradles,  their  mothers  talked  of  their  mar- 
riage. They  soothed  their  own  cares  by  looking 
forward  to  the  future  happiness  of  their  children ; 
but  this  contemplation  often  drew  forth  their  tears. 
The  misfortunes  of  one  mother  had  arisen  from 
having  neglected  marriage ;  those  of  the  other  from 
having  submitted  to  its  laws.  /)ne  had  suffered  by 
aiming  to  rise  above  her  condition,  the  other  by 
descending  from  her  rank.  But  they  found  conso- 
lation in  reflecting  that  their  more  fortunate  chil- 
dren, far  from  the  cruel  prejudices  of  Europe,  would 
enjoy  at  once  the  pleasures  of  love  and  the  bless- 
ings of  equality. 

Rarely,  indeed,  has  such  an  attachment  been 
seen  as  that  which  the  two  children  already  testified 
for  each  other.  If  Paul  complained  of  any  thing,  his 
mother  pointed  to  Virginia :  at  her  sight  he  smiled, 
and  was  appeased.  If  any  accident  befel  Virginia, 
the  cries  of  Paul  gave  notice  of  the  disaster ;  but 
the  dear  little  creature  would  suppress  her  com- 
plaints if  she  found  that  he  was  unhappy.  When 
I  came  hither,  I  usually  found  them  quite  naked, 
as  is  the  custom  of  the  country,  tottering  in  their 
walk,  and  holding  each  other  by  the  hands  and 
under  the  arms,  as  we  see  represented  the  constel- 
lation of  the  Twins.  At  night  these  infants  often 
refused  to  be  separated,  and  were  found  lying  in 


PAUL   AND.  VIRGINIA.  45 

the  same  cradle,  their  cheeks,  their  bosoms  pressed 
close  together,  their  hands  thrown  round  each 
other's  neck,  and  sleeping,  locked  in  one  another's 
arms. 

When  they  began  to  speak,  the  first  name  they 
learned  to  give  each  other  were  those  of  brother 
and  sister,  and  childhood  knows  no  softer  appellation. 
Their  education,  by  directing  them  ever  to  consider 
each  other's  wants,  tended  greatly  to  increase  their 
affection.  In  a  short  time,  all  the  household  econ- 
omy, the  care  of  preparing  their  rural  repasts,  be- 
came the  task  of  Virginia,  whose  labours  were  always 
crowned  with  the  praises  and  kisses  of  her  brother. 
As  for  Paul,  always  in  motion,  he  dug  the  garden 
with  Domingo,  or  followed  him  with  a  little  hatchet 
into  the  woods ;  and  if,  in  his  rambles  he  espied  a 
beautiful  flower,  any  delicious  fruit,  or  a  nest  of 
birds,  even  at  the  top  of  the  tree,  he  would  climb 
up  and  bring  the  spoil  to  his  sister.  When  you  met 
one  of  these  children,  you  might  be  sure  the  other 
was  not  far  off. 

One  day  as  I  was  coming  down  that  mountain,  I 
saw  Virginia  at  the  end  of  the  garden  running 
towards  the  house  with  her  petticoat  thrown  over 
her  head,  in  order  to  screen  herself  from  a  shower 
of  rain.  At  a  distance,  I  thought  she  was  alone ; 
but  as  I  hastened  towards  her  in  order  to  help  her 
on,  I  perceived  she  held  Paul  by  the  arm,  almost 
entirely  enveloped  in  the  same  canopy,  and  both 


46  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

were  laughing  heartily  at  their  being  sheltered  to- 
gether under  an  umbrella  of  their  own  invention. 
Those  two  charming  faces  in  the  middle  of  a  swell- 
ing petticoat,  recalled  to  my  mind  the  children  of 
Leda,  enclosed  in  the  same  shell. 

Their  sole  study  was  how  they  could  please  and 
assist  one  another;  for  of  all  other  things  they  were 
ignorant,  and  indeed  could  neither  read  nor  write. 
They  were  never  disturbed  by  inquiries  about  past 
times,  nor  did  their  curiosity  extend  beyond  the 
bounds  of  their  mountain.  They  believed  the  world 
ended  at  the  shores  of  their  own  island,  and  all  their 
ideas  and  all  their  affections  were  confined  within 
its  limits.  Their  mutual  tenderness,  and  that  of 
their  mothers,  employed  all  the  energies  of  their 
minds.  Their  tears  had  never  been  called  forth  by 
tedious  application  to  useless  sciences.  Their  minds 
had  never  been  wearied  by  lessons  of  morality,  super- 
flous  to  bosoms  unconscious  of  ill.  They  had  never 
been  taught  not  to  steal,  because  every  thing  with 
them  was  in  common  :  or  not  to  be  intemperate, 
because  their  simple  food  was  left  to  their  own  dis- 
cretion ;  or  not  to  lie,  because  they  had  nothing  to 
conceal.  Their  young  imaginations  had  never  been 
terrified  by  the  idea  that  God  has  punishment  in 
store  for  ungrateful  children,  since,  with  them,  filial 
affection  arose  naturally  from  maternal  tenderness. 
All  they  had  been  taught  of  religion  was  to  love  it, 
and  if  they  did  not  offer  up  long  prayers  in  the 


YOUTH   OF    PAUL    AXD   VIRGINIA. 


47 


PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA.  49 

church,  wherever  they  were,  in  the  house,  in  the 
fields,  in  the  woods,  they  raised  towards  heaven 
their  innocent  hands,  and  hearts  purified  by  virtuous 
affections. 

All  their  early  childhood  passed  thus,  like  a 
beautiful  dawn,  the  prelude  of  a  bright  day.  Al- 
ready they  assisted  their  mothers  in  the  duties  of 
the  household.  As  soon  as  the  crowing  of  the 
wakeful  cock  announced  the  first  beam  of  the  morn- 
ing, Virginia  arose,  and  hastened  to  draw  water  from 
a  neighbouring  spring :  then  returning  to  the  house 
she  prepared  the  breakfast.  When  the  rising  sun 
gilded  the  points  of  the  rocks  which  overhang  the 
enclosure  in  which  they  lived,  Margaret  and  her 
child  repaired  to  the  dwelling  of  Madame  de  la  Tour, 
where  they  offered  up  their  morning  prayer  toge- 
ther. This  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving  always  preceded 
their  first  repast,  which  they  often  took  before  the 
door  of  the  cottage,  seated  upon  the  grass,  under  a 
canopy  of  plantain  :  and  while  the  branches  of  that 
delicious  tree  afforded  a  grateful  shade,  its  fruit  fur- 
nished a  substantial  food  ready  prepared  for  them 
by  nature,  and  its  long  glossy  leaves,  spread  upon 
the  table,  supplied  the  place  of  linen.  Plentiful  and 
wholesome  nourishment  gave  early  growth  and  vi- 
gour to  the  persons  of  these  children,  and  their 
countenances  expressed  the  purity  and  the  peace 
of  their  souls.  At  twelve  years  of  age  the  figure  of 
Virginia  was  in  some  degree  formed :  a  profusion  of 
light  hair  shaded  her  face,  to  which  her  blue  eyes 
D  5 


50  PAUL  AND   VIRGINIA. 

and  coral  lips  gave  the  most  charming  brilliancy. 
Her  eyes  sparkled  with  vivacity  when  she  spoke ; 
but  when  she  was  silent  they  were  habitually  turn- 
ed upwards,  with  an  expression  of  extreme  sensi- 
bility, or  rather  of  tender  melancholy.  The  figure 
of  Paul  began  already  to  display  the  graces  of 
youthful  beauty.  He  was  taller  than  Virginia:  his 
skin  was  of  a  darker  tint ;  his  nose  more  aquiline ; 
and  his  black  eyes  would  have  been  too  piercing,  if 
the  long  eye-lashes  by  which  they  were  shaded,  had 
not  imparted  to  them  an  expression  of  softness.  He 
was  constantly  in  motion,  except  when  his  sister 
appeared,  and  then,  seated  by  her  side,  he  became 
still.  Their  meals  often  passed  without  a  word  being 
spoken ;  and  from  their  silence,  the  simple  elegance 
of  their  attitudes,  and  the  beauty  of  their  naked 
feet,  you  might  have  fancied  you  beheld  an  antique 
group  of  white  marble,  representing  some  of  the 
children  of  Niobe,  but  for  the  glances  of  their  eyes, 
which  were  constantly  seeking  to  meet,  and  their 
mutual  soft  and  tender  smiles,  which  suggested 
rather  the  idea  of  happy  celestial  spirits,  whose 
nature  is  love,  and  who  are  not  obliged  to  have  re- 
course to  words  for  the  expression  of  their  feelings. 
In  the  meantime  Madame  de  la  Tour,  perceiving 
every  day  some  unfolding  grace,  some  new  beauty, 
i:;  her  daughter,  felt  her  maternal  anxiety  increase 
with  her  tenderness.  She  often  said  to  me,  "  If  I 
were  to  die,  what  will  become  of  Virginia  without 
fortune?" 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  51 

Madame  de  la  Tour  had  an  aunt  in  France,  who 
was  a  woman  of  quality,  rich,  old,  and  a  complete 
devotee.     She  had  behaved  with  so  much  cruelty 
towards  her  niece  upon  her  marriage,  that  Madame 
de  la  Tour  had  determined  no  extremity  of  distress 
should  ever  compel  her  to  have  recourse  to  her  hard- 
hearted relation.     But  when  she  became  a  mother, 
the  pride  of  resentment  was  overcome  by  the  strong- 
er feelings  of  maternal  tenderness.     She  wrote  to 
her  aunt,  informing  her  of  the  sudden  death  of  her 
husband,  the  birth  of  her  daughter,  and  the  diffi- 
culties in  which  she  was  involved,  burthened  as  she 
was  with  an  infant,  and  without  means  of  support. 
She  received  no  answer ;  but .  notwithstanding  the 
high  spirit  natural  to  her  character,  she  no  longer 
feared  exposing  herself  to  mortification ;  and,  al- 
though she  knew  her  aunt  would  never  pardon  her 
for  having  married  a  man  who  was  not  of  noble 
birth,  however  estimable,  she  continued  to  write  to 
her,  with  the  hope  of  awakening  her  compassion  for 
Virginia.     Many  years,  however  passed  without  re- 
ceiving any  token  of  her  remembrance. 

At  length,  in  1738,  three  years  after  the  arrival 
of  Monsieur  de  la  Bourdonnais  in  this  island,  Ma- 
dame de  la  Tour  was  informed  that  the  Governor 
had  a  letter  to  give  her  from  her  aunt.  She  flew  to 
Port  Louis ;  maternal  joy  raised  her  mind  above  all 
trifling  considerations,  and  she  was  careless  on  this 
occasion  of  appearing  in  her  homely  attire.  Mon- 


52  PAUL   AND  VIRGINIA. 

sieur.  de  la  Bourdonnais  gave  her  a  letter  from  her 
aunt,  in  which  she  informed  her,  that  she  deserved 
her  fate  for  marrying  an  adventurer  and  a  libertine : 
that  the  passions  brought  with  them  their  own  pun- 
ishment ;  that  the  premature  death  of  her  husband 
was  a  just  visitation  from  Heaven ;  that  she  had 
done  well  in  going  to  a  distant  island,  rather  than 
dishonour  her  family  by  remaining  in  France ;  and 
that,  after  all,  in  the  colony  where  she  had  taken 
refuge,  none  but  the  idle  failed  to  grow  rich.  Having 
thus  censured  her  niece,  she  concluded  by  eulogizing 
herself.     To  avoid,  she  said,  the  almost  inevitable 
evils  of  marriage,  she  had  determined  to  remain 
single.     In  fact,  as  she  was  of  a  very  ambitious 
disposition,  she  had  resolved  to  marry  none  but  a 
man  of  high  rank  ;  but  although  she  was  very  rich, 
her  fortune  was  not  found  a  sufficient  bribe,  even  at 
court,  to  counterbalance  the  malignant  dispositions 
of  her  mind,  and  the  disagreeable  qualities  of  her 
person. 

After  mature  deliberations,  she  added,  in  a  post- 
script, that  she  had  strongly  recommended  her  niece 
to  Monsieur  de  la  Bourdonnais.  This  she  had  in- 
deed done,  but  in  a  manner  of  late  too  common, 
which  renders  a  patron  perhaps  even  more  to  be 
feared  than  a  declared  enemy ;  for,  in  order  to  justify 
herself  for  her  harshness,  she  had  cruelly  slandered 
her  niece,  while  she  affected  to  pity  her  misfortunes. 
Madame  de  la  Tour,  whom  no  unprejudiced  per- 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  53 

son  could  have  seen  without  feelings  of  sympathy 
and  respect,  was  received  with  the  utmost  coolness 
by  Monsieur  de  la  Bourdonnais,  biassed  as  he  was 
against  her.  When  she  painted  to  him  her  own  situa- 
tion and  that  of  her  child,  he  replied  in  abrupt  sen- 
tences,— "  We  will  see  what  can  be  done — there  are 
so  many  to  relieve — all  in  good  time — why  did  you 
displease  your  aunt  ? — you  have  been  much  to 
blame." 

Madame  de  la  Tour  returned  to  her  cottage,  her 
heart  torn  with  grief,  and  filled  with  all  the  bitterness 
of  disappointment.  When  she  arrived,  she  threw 
her  aunt's  letter  on  the  table,  and  exclaimed  to  her 
friend, — "  There  is  the  fruit  of  eleven  years  of  pa- 
tient expectation  !"  Madame  de  la  Tour  being  the 
only  person  in  the  little  circle  who  could  read,  she 
again  took  up  the  letter,  and  read  it  aloud.  Scarcely 
had  she  finished,  when  Margaret  exclaimed, "  What 
have  we  to  do  with  your  relations  ?  Has  God  then 
forsaken  us  ?  He  only  is  our  father !  Have  we  not 
hitherto  been  happy  ?  Why  then  this  regret  ?  You 
have  no  courage."  Seeing  Madame  de  la  Tour  in 
tears,  she  threw  herself  upon  her  neck,  and  press- 
ing her  in  her  arms, — te  My  dear  friend !"  cried  she, 
"  my  dear  friend  !" — but  her  emotion  choked  her 
utterance.  At  this  sight  Virginia  burst  into  tears, 
and  pressed  her  mother's  and  Margaret's  hand  alter- 
nately to  her  lips  and  heart ;  while  Paul,  his  eyes 
inflamed  with  anger,  cried,  clasped  his  hands  toge- 


54  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

ther,  and  stamped  with  his  foot,  not  knowing  whom 
to  blame  for  this  scene  of  misery.  The  noise  soon 
brought  Dorningo  and  Mary  to  the  spot,  and  the 
little  habitation  resounded  with  cries  of  distress, — 
"  Ah,  madam  ! — My  good  mistress ! — My  dear  mo- 
ther ! — Do  not  weep !"  These  tender  proofs  of  af- 
fection at  length  dispelled  the  grief  of  Madame  de 
la  Tour.  She  took  Paul  and  Virginia  in  her  arms, 
and,  embracing  them,  said,  "  You  are  the  cause  of 
my  affliction,  my  children,  but  you  are  also  my  only 
source  of  delight !  Yes,  my  dear  children,  misfor- 
tune has  reached  me,  but  only  from  a  distance : 
here,  I  am  surrounded  with  happiness."  Paul  and 
Virginia  did  not  understand  this  reflection;  but, 
when  they  saw  that  she  was  calm,  they  smiled,  and 
continued  to  caress  her.  Tranquillity  was  thus  re- 
stored in  this  happy  family,  and  all  that  had  passed 
was  but  as  a  storm  in  the  midst  of  fine  weather, 
which  disturbs  the  serenity  of  the  atmosphere  but 
for  a  short  time,  and  then  passes  away. 

The  amiable  disposition  of  these  children  unfold- 
ed itself  daily.  One  Sunday,  at  day-break,  their 
mothers  having  gone  to  mass  at  the  church  of  the 
Shaddock  Grove,  the  children  perceived  a  negro 
woman  beneath  the  plantains  which  surrounded 
their  habitation.  She  appeared  almost  wasted  to 
a  skeleton,  and  had  no  other  garment  than  a  piece 
of  coarse  cloth  thrown  around  her.  She  threw 
herself  at  the  feet  of  Virginia,  who  was  preparing 


THE    NEGRO   SLAVE    AT   VIRGINIA  S   FEET. 


55 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  57 

the  family  breakfast,  and  said,  "  My  good  young 
lady,  have  pity  on  a  poor  runaway  slave.  For  a 
whole  month  I  have  wandered  among  these  moun- 
tains, half  dead  with  hunger,  and  often  pursued  by 
the  hunters  and  their  dogs.  I  fled  from  my  master, 
a  rich  planter  of  the  Black  River,  who  has  used  me 
as  you  see ;"  and  she  showed  her  body  marked  with 
scars  from  the  lashes  she  had  received.  She  added, 
"  I  was  going  to  drown  myself,  but  hearing  you 
lived  here,  I  said  to  myself,  Since  there  are  still  some 
good  white  people  in  this  country,  I  need  not  die 
yet."  Virginia  answered  with  emotion, — "  Take 
courage,  unfortunate  creature !  here  is  something  to 
eat ;"  and  she  gave  her  the  breakfast  she  had  been 
preparing,  which  the  slave  in  a  few  minutes  de- 
voured. When  her  hunger  was  appeased,  Virginia 
said  to  her, — "  Poor  woman !  I  should  like  to  go 
and  ask  forgiveness  for  you  of  your  master.  Surely 
the  sight  of  you  will  touch  him  with  pity.  Will 
you  show  me  the  way  ?" — "  Angel  of  heaven  !"  an- 
swered the  poor  negro  woman,  "  I  will  follow  you 
where  you  please !"  Virginia  called  her  brother, 
and  begged  him  to  accompany  her.  The  slave  led 
the  way,  by  winding  and  difficult  paths,  through 
the  woods,  over  mountains,  which  they  climbed  with 
difficulty,  and  across  rivers,  through  which  they 
were  obliged  to  wade.  At  length,  about  the  mid- 
dle of  the  day,  they  reached  the  foot  of  a  steep 
descent  upon  the  borders  of  the  Black  River. 


58  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

There  they  perceived  a  well-built  house,  surround- 
ed by  extensive  plantations,  and  a  number  of  slaves 
employed  in  their  various  labours.  Their  master 
was  walking  among  them  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth, 
and  a  switch  in  his  hand.  He  was  a  tall  thin  man, 
of  a  brown  complexion ;  his  eyes  were  sunk  in  his 
head,  and  his  dark  eyebrows  were  joined  in  one. 
Virginia,  holding  Paul  by  the  hand,  drew  near,  and 
with  mufih  emotion  begged  him,  for  the  love  of 
God,  to  pardon  his  poor  slave,  who  stood  trembling 
a  few  paces  behind.  The  planter  at  first  paid  little 
attention  to  the  children,  who,  he  saw,  were  meanly 
dressed..  But  when  he  observed  the  elegance  of 
Virginia's  form,  and  the  profusion  of  her  beautiful 
light  tresses  which  had  escaped  from  beneath  her 
blue  cap ;  when  he  heard  the  soft  tone  of  her  voice, 
which  trembled,  as  well  as  her  whole  frame,  while 
she  implored  his  compassion ;  he  took  his  pipe  from 
his  mouth,  and  lifting  up  his  stick,  swore,  with  a 
terrible  oath,  that  he  pardoned  his  slave,  not  for 
the  love  of  Heaven,  but  of  her  who  asked  his  for- 
giveness. Virginia  made  a  sign  to  the  slave  to  ap- 
proach her  master ;  and  instantly  sprang  away 
followed  by  Paul. 

They  climbed  up  the  steep  they  had  descended ; 
and  having  gained  the  summit,  seated  themselves 
at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  overcome  with  fatigue,  hunger 
and  thirst.  They  had  left  their  home  fasting,  and 
walked  five  lea.srues  since  sunrise.  Paul  said  to 


PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA.  59 

Virginia, — "  My  dear  sister,  it  is  past  noon,  and  I 
am  sure  you  are  thirsty  and  hungry  :  we  shall  find 
no  dinner  here ;  let  us  go  down  the  mountain  again, 
and  ask  the  master  of  the  poor  slave  for  some  food." 
— "  Oh,  no,"  answered  Virginia,  "  he  frightens  me 
too  much.  Remember  what  mamma  sometimes  says, 
'The  bread  of  the  wicked  is  like  stones   in  the 
mouth.' " — "  What  shall  we  do  then,"  said  Paul ; 
"  these  trees  produce  no  fruit  fit  to  eat ;  and  I  shall 
not  be  able  to  find  even  a  tamarind  or  a  lemon  to 
refresh  you." — "  God  will  take  care  of  us,"  replied 
Virginia ;  "  he  listens  to  the  cry  even  of  the  little 
birds  when  they  ask  him  for  food."     Scarcely  had 
she  pronounced  these  words  when  they  heard  the 
noise  of  water  falling  from  a  neighbouring   rock. 
They  ran  thither  and  having  quenched  their  thirst 
at  this  crystal  spring,  they  gathered  and  ate  a  few 
cresses  which  grew  on  the  border  of  the  stream. 
Soon  afterwards  while  they  were  wandering  back- 
wards and  forwards  in  search  of  more  solid  nourish- 
ment, Virginia  perceived  in  the  thickest  part  of  the 
forest,  a  young  palm-tree.     The  kind  of  cabbage 
which  is  found  at  the  top  of  the  palm,   enfolded 
within  its  leaves,  is  well  adapted  for  food ;  but,  al- 
though the  stock  of  the  tree  is  not  thicker  than  a 
man's  leg,  it  grows  to  above  sixty  feet  in  height. 
The  wood  of  the  tree,  indeed,  is  composed  only  of 
very  fine  filaments;  but  the  bark  is  so  hard  that  it 
turns  the  edge  of  the  hatchet,  and  Paul  was  not  fur- 


60  PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA. 

nished  even  with  a  knife.  At  length  he  thought  of 
setting  fire  to  the  palm-tree ;  but  a  new  difficulty 
occurred :  he  had  no  steel  with  which  to  strike  fire ; 
and  although  the  whole  island  is  covered  with  rocks, 
I  do  not  believe  it  is  possible  to  find  a  single  flint. 
Necessity,  however,  is  fertile  in  expedients,  and  the 
most  useful  inventions  have  arisen  from  men  placed 
in.  the  most  destitute  situations.  Paul  determined 
to  kindle  a  fire  after  the  manner  of  the  negroes. 
"With  the  sharp  end  of  a  stone  he  made  a  small  hole 
in  the  branch  of  a  tree  that  was  quite  dry,  and 
which  he  held  between  his  feet :  he  then,  with  the 
edge  of  the  same  stone,  brought  to  a  point  another 
dry  branch  of  a  different  sort  of  wood,  and,  after- 
wards, placing  the  piece  of  pointed  wood  in  the 
small  hole  of  the  branch  which  he  held  with  his  feet 
and  turning  it  rapidly  between  his  hands,  in  a  few 
minutes  smoke  and  sparks  of  fire  issued  from  the 
point  of  contact.  Paul  then  heaped  together  dried 
grass  and  branches,  and  set  fire  to  the  foot  of  the 
palm-tree,  which  soon  fell  to  the  ground  with  a  tre- 
mendous crash.  The  fire  was  further  useful  to  him 
in  stripping  off  the  long,  thick,  and  pointed  leaves, 
within  which  the  cabbage  was  inclosed.  Having 
thus  succeeded  in  obtaining  this  fruit,  they  ate  part 
of  it  raw,  and  part  dressed  upon  the  ashes,  which 
they  found  equally  palatable.  They  made  this  fru- 
gal repast  with  delight,  from  the  remembrance  of  the 
benevolent  action  they  had  performed  in  the  morn- 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  61 

ing  :  yet  their  joy  was  embittered  by  the  thoughts 
of  the  uneasiness  which  their  long  absence  from 
home  would  occasion  their  mothers.  Virginia  often 
recurred  to  this  subject;  but  Paul,  who  felt  his 
strength  renewed  by  their  meal,  assured  her,  that 
it  would  not  be  long  before  they  reached  home,  and, 
by  the  assurance  of  their  safety,  tranquillized  the 
minds  of  their  parents. 

After  dinner  they  were  much  embarrassed  by  the 
recollection  that  they  had  now  no  guide,  and  that 
they  were  ignorant  of  the  way.    Paul,  whose  spirit 
was  not  subdued  by  difficulties,  said  to  Virginia, — 
"  The  sun  shines  full  upon  our  huts  at  noon  :  we 
must  pass,  as  we  did  this  morning,  over  that  moun- 
tain with  its  three  points,  which  you  see  yonder. 
Come,  let  us  be  moving."    This  mountain  was  that 
of  the  Three  Breasts,  so  called  from  the  form  of  its 
three  peaks.     They  then  descended  the  steep  bank 
of  the  Black  River,  on  the  northern  side ;  and  ar- 
rived, after  an  hour's  walk,  on  the  banks  of  a  large 
river,  which  stopped  their  further  progress.     This 
large  portion  of  the  island,  covered  as  it  is  with 
forests,  is  even  now  so  little  known  that  many  of 
its  rivers  and  mountains  have  not  yet  received  a 
name.     The  stream,  on  the  banks  of  which  Paul 
and  Virginia  were  now  standing,  rolls  foaming  over 
a  bed  of  rocks.     The  noise  of  the  water  frightened 
Virginia,  and  she  was  afraid  to  wade  through  the 
current :  Paul  therefore  took  her  up  in  his  arms, 
6 


62  PAUL   AND  VIRGINIA. 

and  went  thus  loaded  over  the  slippery  rocks,  which 
formed  the  bed  of  the  river,  careless  of  the  tumul- 
tuous noise  of  its  waters.  "  Do  not  be  afraid,"  cried 
he  to  Virginia ;  "  I  feel  very  strong  with  you.  If 
that  planter  at  the  Black  River  had  refused  you 
the  pardon  of  his  slave,  I  would  have  fought  with 
him." — "  What !"  answered  Virginia,  "  with  that 
great  wicked  man  ?  To  what  have  I  exposed  you ! 
Gracious  heaven !  how  difficult  it  is  to  do  good ! 
and  yet  it  is  so  easy  to  do  wrong." 

When  Paul  had  crossed  the  river,  he  wished  to 
continue  the  journey  carrying  his  sister :  and  he 
flattered  himself  that  he  could  ascend  in  that  way 
the  mountain  of  the  Three  Breasts,  which  was  still 
at  the  distance  of  half  a  league ;  but  his  strength 
soon  failed,  and  he  was  obliged  to  set  down  his 
burthen,  and  to  rest  himself  by  her  side.  Virginia 
then  said  to  him,  "  My  dear  brother,  the  sun  is 
going  down ;  you  have  still  some  strength  left,  but 
mine  has  quite  failed  :  do  leave  me  here,  and  return 
home  alone  to  ease  the  fears  of  our  mothers." — 
"  Oh  no,"  said  Paul,  "  I  will  not  leave  you  if  night 
overtakes  us  in  this  wood,  I  wrill  light  a  fire,  and 
bring  down  another  palm-tree :  you  shall  eat  the 
cabbage,  and  I  will  form  a  covering  of  the  leaves 
to  shelter  you."  In  the  meantime,  Virginia  being 
a  little  rested,  she  gathered  from  the  trunk  of  an 
old  tree,  which  overhung  the  bank  of  the  river, 
some  long  leaves  of  the  plant  called  hart's  tongue, 


THE    PASSAGE   OF   THE    TORRENT. 


n 


PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA.  65 

which  grew  near  its  root.  Of  these  leaves  she  made 
a  sort  of  buskin,  with  which  she  covered  her  feet, 
that  were  bleeding  from  the  sharpness  of  the  stony 
paths  ;  for  in  her  eager  desire  to  do  good,  she  had 
forgotten  to  put  on  her  shoes.  Feeling  her  feet  cooled 
by  the  freshness  of  the  leaves,  she  broke  off  a  branch 
of  bamboo,  and  continued  her  walk,  leaning  with 
one  hand  on  the  staff,  and  with  the  other  on  Paul. 
They  walked  on  in  this  manner  slowly  through 
the  woods ;  but  from  the  height  of  the  trees,  and 
the  thickness  of  their  foliage,  they  soon  lost  sight  of 
the  mountain  of  the  Three  Breasts,  by  which  they 
had  hitherto  directed  their  course,  and  also  of  the 
sun,  which  was  now  setting.  At  length  they  wan- 
dered, without  perceiving  it,  from  the  beaten  path 
in  which  they  had  hitherto  walked,  and  found  them- 
selves in  a  labyrinth  of  trees,  underwood,  and  rocks, 
whence  there  appeared  to  be  no  outlet.  Paul  made 
Virginia  sit  down,  while  he  ran  backwards  and  for- 
wards, half  frantic,  in  search  of  a  path  which  might 
lead  them  out  of  this  thick  wood ;  but  he  fatigued 
himself  to  no  purpose.  He  then  climbed  to  the  top 
of  a  lofty  tree,  whence  he  hoped  at  least  to  perceive 
the  mountain  of  the  Three  Breasts :  but  he  could 
discern  nothing  around  him  but  the  tops  of  trees, 
some  of  which  were  gilded  with  the  last  beams  of 
the  setting  sun.  Already  the  shadows  of  the  moun- 
tains were  spreading  over  the  forests  in  the  valleys. 
The  wind  lulled,  as  is  usually  the  case  at  sunset. 
E  6* 


66  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

The  most  profound  silence  reigned  in  those  awful 
solitudes,  which  was  only  interrupted  by  the  cry  of 
the  deer,  who  came  to  their  lairs  in  that  unfrequent- 
ed spot.  Paul,  in  the  hope  that  some  hunter  would 
hear  his  voice,  called  out  as  loud  as  he  was  able, — 
"  Come,  come  to  the  help  of  Virginia."  But  the 
echoes  of  the  forest  alone  answered  his  call,  and  re- 
peated again  and  again,  "Virginia — Virginia." 

Paul  at  length  descended  from  the  tree,  overcome 
with  fatigue  and  vexation.  He  looked  around  in 
order  to  make  some  arrangement  for  passing  the 
night  in  that  desert;  but  he  could  find  neither  foun- 
tain, nor  palm-tree,  nor  even  a  branch  of  dry  wood 
fit  for  kindling  a  fire.  He  was  then  impressed,  by 
experience,  with  the  sense  of  his  own  weakness,  and 
began  to  weep.  Virginia  said  to  him, — "Do  not 
weep,  my  dear  brother,  or  I  shall  be  overwhelmed 
with  grief.  I  am  the  cause  of  all  your  sorrow,  and 
of  all  that  our  mothers  are  suffering  at  this  moment. 
I  find  we  ought  to  do  nothing,  not  even  good,  with- 
out consulting  our  parents.  Oh,  I  have  been  very 
imprudent !" — and  she  began  to  shed  tears.  "  Let 
us  pray  to  God,  my  dear  brother,"  she  again  said, 
"  and  he  will  hear  us."  They  had  scarcely  finished 
their  prayer,  when  they  heard  the  barking  of  a  dog. 
"  It  must  be  the  dog  of  some  hunter,"  said  Paul, 
who  comes  here  at  night,  to  lie  in  wait  for  the  deer." 
Soon  after,  the  dog  began  barking  again  with  in- 
creased violence.  "Surely,"  said  Virginia,  "it  is 


PAUL  AND   VIRGINIA.  67 

Fidele,  our  own  dog  :  yes, — now  I  know  his  bark. 
Are  we  then  so  near  home  ? — at  the  foot  of  our  own 
mountain  ?"     A  moment  after,  Fidele  was  at  their 
feet,  barking,   howling,   moaning,    and   devouring 
them  with  his  caresses.     Before  they  could  recover 
from  their  surprise,  they  saw  Domingo  running  to- 
wards them.     At  the  sight  of  the  good  old  negro, 
who  wept  for  joy,  they  began  to  weep  too,  but  had 
not  the  power  to  utter  a  syllable.     When  Domingo 
had  recovered  himself  a  little, — "  Oh,  my  dear  chil- 
dren,"said  he,  "  how  miserable  have  you  made  your 
mothers !     How  astonished  they  were  when  they 
returned  with  me  from  mass,  on  not  finding  you  at 
home.     Mary,  who  was  at  work  at  a  little  distance, 
could  not  tell  us  where  you  were  gone.    I  ran  back- 
wards and  forwards  in  the  plantation,  not  knowing 
where  to  look  for  you.    At  last  I  took  some  of  your 
old  clothes,  and  showing  them  to  Fidele,  the  poor 
animal,  as  if  he  understood  me,  immediately  began 
to  scent  your  path ;  and  conducted  me,  wagging  his 
tail  all  the  while,  to  the  Black  River.    I  there  saw 
a  planter,  who  told  me  you  had  brought  back  a 
Maroon  negro  woman,  his  slave,  and  that  he  had 
pardoned  her  at  your  request.   But  what  a  pardon ! 
he  showed  her  to  me  with  her  feet  chained  to  a 
block  of  wood,  and  an  iron  collar  with  three  hooks 
fastened  round  her  neck !     After  that,  Fidele,  still 
on  the  scent,  led  me  up  the  steep  bank  of  the  Black 
River,  where  he  again  stopped,  and  barked  with  all 


68  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

his  might.  This  was  on  the  brink  of  a  spring,  near 
which  was  a  fallen  palm-tree,  and  a  fire,  still  smok- 
ing. At  last  he  led  me  to  this  very  spot.  We  are 
now  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  of  the  Three 
Breasts,  and  still  four  good  leagues  from  home. 
Come,  eat,  and  recover  your  strength."  Domingo 
then  presented  them  with  a  cake,  some  fruit,  and  a 
large  gourd,  full  of  beverage  composed  of  wine, 
water,  lemon-juice,  sugar,  and  nutmeg,  which  their 
mothers  had  prepared  to  invigorate  and  refresh 
them.  Virginia  sighed  at  the  recollection  of  the 
poor  slave,  and  at  the  uneasiness  they  had  given 
their  mothers.  She  repeated  several  times — "  Oh, 
how  difficult  it  is  to  do  good!"  While  she  and 
Paul  were  taking  refreshment,  it  being  already 
night,  Domingo  kindled  a  fire :  and  having  found 
among  the  rocks  a  particular  kind  of  twisted  wood, 
called  bois  de  ronde,  which  burns  when  quite  green, 
and  throws  out  a  great  blaze,  he  made  a  torch  of  it, 
which  he  lighted.  But  when  they  prepared  to  con- 
tinue their  journey,  a  new  difficulty  occurred;  Paul 
and  Virginia  could  no  longer  walk,  their  feet  being 
violently  swollen  and  inflamed.  Domingo  knew 
not  what  to  do ;  whether  to  leave  them  and  go  in 
search  of  help,  or  remain  and  pass  the  night  with 
them  on  that  spot.  "  There  was  a  time,"  said  he, 
"  when  I  could  carry  you  both  together  in  my  arms ! 
But  now  you  are  grown  big,  and  I  am  grown  old." 
While  he  was  in  this  perplexity,  a  troop  of  Maroon 


THE   CHILDREN    FOUND    BY    FIDEUO. 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  71 

negroes  appeared  at  a  short  distance  from  them. 
The  chief  of  the  band,  approaching  Paul  and  Vir- 
ginia, said  to  them, — "  Good  little  white  people,  do 
not  be  afraid.  We  saw  you  pass  this  morning,  with 
a  negro  woman  of  the  Black  River.  You  went  to 
ask  pardon  for  her  of  her  wicked  master ;  and  we, 
in  return  for  this,  will  carry  you  home  upon  our 
shoulders."  He  then  made  a  sign,  and  four  of  the 
strongest  negroes  immediately  formed  a  sort  of  litter 
with  the  branches  of  trees  and  lianas,  and  having 
seated  Paul  and  Virginia  on  it,  carried  them  upon 
their  shoulders.  Domingo  marched  in  front  with 
his  lighted  torch,  and  they  proceeded  amidst  the 
rejoicings  of  the  whole  troop,  who  overwhelmed 
them  with  their  benedictions.  Virginia,  affected 
by  this  scene,  said  to  Paul,  with  emotion, — "  Oh, 
my  dear  brother !  God  never  leaves  a  good  action 
unrewarded." 

It  was  midnight  when  they  arrived  at  the  foot  of 
their  mountain,  on  the  ridges  of  which  several  fires 
were  lighted.  As  soon  as  they  began  to  ascend, 
they  heard  voices  exclaiming — "  Is  it  you,  my  chil- 
dren ?"  They  answered  immediately,  and  the 
negroes  also, — "  Yes,  yes,  it  is."  A  moment  after 
they  could  distinguish  their  mothers  and  Mary 
coming  towards  them  with  lighted  sticks  in  their 
hands.  "  Unhappy  children,"  cried  Madame  de  la 
_,  JEQuf,  '", where  have  you  been  ?  What  agonies  you 
made  us  suffer !" — "  We  have  been,"  said  Vir- 


72  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

ginia,"to  the  Black  River,  where  we  went  to  ask 
pardon  for  a  poor  Maroon  slave,  to  whom  I  gave 
our  breakfast  this  morning,  because  she  seemed  dy- 
ing of  hunger;  and  these  Maroon  negroes  have 
brought  us  home."  Madame  de  la  Tour  embraced 
her  daughter,  without  being  able  to  speak;  and 
Virginia,  who  felt  her  face  wet  with  her  mother's 
tears,  exclaimed,  "  Now  I  am  repaid  for  all  the  hard- 
ships I  have  suffered."  Margaret  in  a  transport  of  de- 
light, pressed  Paul  in  her  arms,  exclaiming,  "  And 
you  also,  my  dear  child,  you  have  done  a  good  ac- 
tion." When  they  reached  the  cottages  with  their 
children,  they  entertained  all  the  negroes  with  a 
plentiful  repast,  after  which  the  latter  returned  to 
the  woods,  praying  Heaven  to  shower  down  every 
description  of  blessing  on  those  good  white  people. 
Every  day  was  to  these  families  a  day  of  happi- 
ness and  tranquillity.  Neither  ambition  nor  envy 
disturbed  their  repose.  They  did  not  seek  to  ob- 
tain a  useless  reputation  out  of  doors,  which  may 
be  procured  by  artifice  and  lost  by  calumny ;  but 
were  contented  to  be  the  sole  witnesses  and  judges 
of  their  own  actions.  In  this  island,  where,  as  is 
the  case  in  most  colonies,  scandal  forms  the  princi- 
pal topic  of  conversation,  their  virtues,  and  even 
their  names,  were  unknown.  The  passer-by  on  the 
road  to  the  Shaddock  Grove,  indeed,  would  some- 
times ask  the  inhabitants  of  the  plain,  who  lived  in 
the  cottages  up  there  ?  and  was  always  told,  even  by 


PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA.  73 

those  who  did  not  know  them,  "  They  are  good  peo- 
ple." The  modest  violet  thus,  concealed  in  thorny 
places  sheds  all  unseen  its  delightful  fragrance 
around. 

Slander,  which,  under  an  appearance  of  justice, 
naturally  inclines  the  heart  to  falsehood  or  to  hatred, 
was  entirely  banished  from  their  conversation ;  for 
it  IB  impossible  not  to  hate  men  if  we  believe  them 
to  be  wicked,  or  to  live  with  the  wicked  without 
concealing  that  hatred  under  a  false  pretence  of  good 
feeling.  Slander  thus  puts  us  ill  at  ease  with  others 
and  with  ourselves.  In  this  little  circle,  therefore, 
the  conduct  of  individuals  was  not  discussed,  but 
the  best  manner  of  doing  good  to  all ;  and  although 
they  had  but  little  in  their  power,  their  unceasing 
good-will  and  kindness  of  heart  made  them  con- 
stantly ready  to  do  what  they  could  for  others. 
Solitude,  far  from  having  blunted  these  benevolent 
feelings,  had  rendered  their  dispositions  even  more 
kindly.  Although  the  petty  scandals  of  the  day 
furnished  no  subject  of  conversation  to  them,  yet 
the  contemplation  of  nature  filled  their  minds  with 
enthusiastic  delight.  They  adored  the  bounty  of 
that  Providence,  which,  by  their  instrumentality, 
had  spread  abundance  and  beauty  amid  these  barren 
rocks,  and  had  enabled  them  to  enjoy  those  pure 
and  simple  pleasures,  which  are  ever  grateful  and 
ever  new. 

Paul,  at  twelve  years  of  age,  was  stronger  and 
7 


74  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

more  intelligent  than  most  European  youths  are  at 
fifteen ;  and  the  plantations,  which  Domingo  mere- 
ly cultivated,  were  embellished  by  him.  He  would 
go  with  the  old  negro  into  the  neighbouring  woods, 
where  he  would  root  up  the  young  plants  of  lemon, 
orange,  and  tamarind  trees,  the  round  heads  of 
which  are  so  fresh  a  green,  together  with  date-palm 
trees,  which  produce  fruit  filled  with  a  sweet  cream, 
possessing  the  fine  perfume  of  the  orange  flower. 
These  trees,  which  had  already  attained  to  a  consi- 
derable size,  he  planted  round  their  little  enclosure. 
He  had  also  sown  the  seed  of  many  trees  which 
the  second  year  bear  flowers  or  fruit ;  such  as  the 
agathis,  encircled  with  long  clusters  of  white  flowers 
which  hang  from  it  like  the  crystal  pendants  of  a 
chandelier ;  the  Persian  lilac,  which  lifts  high  in  air 
its  gray  flax-coloured  branches ;  the  pappaw  tree, 
the  branchless  trunk  of  which  forms  a  column  stud- 
ded with  green  melons,  surmounted  by  a  capital  of 
broad  leaves  similar  to  those  of  the  fig-tree. 

The  seeds  and  kernels  of  the  gum  tree,  terminalia, 
mango,  alligator  pear,  the  guava,  the  bread-fruit 
tree,  and  the  narrow-leaved  rose-apple,  were  also 
planted  by  him  with  profusion  :  and  the  greater 
number  of  these  trees  already  afforded  their  }~oung 
cultivator  both  shade  and  fruit.  His  industrious 
hands  diffused  the  riches  of  nature  over  even  the 
most  barren  parts  of  the  plantation.  Several  spe- 
cies of  aloes,  the  Indian  fig,  adorned  with  yellow 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  75 

flowers  spotted  with  red,  and  the  thorny  torch 
thistle,  grew  upon  the  dark  summits  of  the  rocks, 
and  seemed  to  aim  at  reaching  the  long  lianas, 
which,  laden  with  blue  or  scarlet  flowers,  hung  scat- 
tered over  the  steepest  parts  of  the  mountain. 

I  loved  to  trace  the  ingenuity  he  had  exercised 
in  the  arrangement  of  these  trees.  He  had  so  dis- 
posed them  that  the  whole  could  be  seen  at  a  single 
glance.  In  the  middle  of  the  hollow  he  had  planted 
shrubs  of  the  lowest  growth  ;  behind  grew  the  more 
lofty  sorts ;  then  trees  of  the  ordinary  height ;  and 
beyond  and  above  all,  the  venerable  and  lofty  groves 
which  border  the  circumference.  Thus  this  exten- 
sive enclosure  appeared,  from  its  centre,  like  a  ver- 
dant amphitheatre  decorated  with  fruits  and  flowers, 
containing  a  variety  of  vegetables,  some  strips  of 
meadow  land,  and  fields  of  rice  and  corn.  But,  in 
arranging  these  vegetable  productions  to  his  own 
taste,  he  wandered  not  too  far  from  the  designs  of 
Nature.  Guided  by  her  suggestions,  he  had  thrown 
upon  the  elevated  spots  such  seeds  as  the  winds 
would  scatter  about,  and  near  the  borders  of  the 
springs  those  which  float  upon  the  water.  Every 
plant  thus  grew  in  its  proper  soil,  and  every  spot 
seemed  decorated  by  Nature's  own  hand.  The 
streams  which  fell  from  the  summits  of  the  rocks 
formed  in  some  parts  of  the  valley  sparkling  cas- 
cades, and  in  others  were  spread  into  broad  mir- 
rors, in  which  were  reflected,  set  in  verdure,  the 


76  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

flowering   trees,    the   overhanging  rocks,   and  the 
azure  heavens. 

Notwithstanding  the  great  irregularity  of  the 
ground,  these  plantations  were,  for  the  most  part, 
easy  of  access.  We  had,  indeed,  all  given  him  our 
advice  and  assistance,  in  order  to  accomplish  this 
end.  He  had  conducted  one  path  entirely  round 
the  valley,  and  various  branches  from  it  led  from 
the  circumference  to  the  centre.  He  had  drawn 
some  advantage  from  the  most  rugged  spots,  and 
had  blended,  in  harmonious  union,  level  walks  with 
the  inequalities  of  the  soil,  and  trees  which  grow 
wild  with  the  cultivated  varieties.  With  that  im- 
mense quantity  of  large  pebbles  which  now  block 
up  these  paths,  and  which  are  scattered  over  most 
of  the  ground  of  this  island,  he  formed  pyramidal 
heaps  here  and  there,  at  the  base  of  which  he  laid 
mould,  and  planted  rose-bushes,  the  Barbadoes  flow- 
er-fence, and  other  shrubs  which  love  to  climb  the 
rocks  In  a  short  time  the  dark  and  shapeless  heaps 
of  stones  he  had  constructed  were  covered  with  ver- 
dure, or  with  the  glowing  tints  of  the  most  beautiful 
flowers.  Hollow  recesses  on  the  borders  of  the  streams 
shaded  by  the  overhanging  boughs  of  aged  trees, 
formed  rural  grottoes,  impervious  to  the  rays  of  the 
sun,  in  which  you  might  enjoy  a  refreshing  coolness 
during  the  mid-day  heats.  One  path  led  to  a  clump 
of  forest  trees,  in  the  centre  of  which,  sheltered 
from  the  wind,  you  found  a  fruit-tree,  laden  with 


PAUL  AND    VIRGINIA.  77 

produce.  Here  was  a  corn-field;  there,  an  orchard; 
from  one  avenue  you  had  a  view  of  the  cottages ; 
from  another,  of  the  inaccessible  summit  of  the 
mountain.  Beneath  one  tufted  bower  of  gum  trees, 
interwoven  with  lianas,  no  object  whatever  could 
be  perceived  :  while  the  point  of  the  adjoining  rock, 
jutting  out  from  the  mountain,  commanded  a  view 
of  the  whole  enclosure,  and  of  the  distant  ocean, 
where,  occasionally,  we  could  discern  the  distant 
sail,  arriving  from  Europe,  or  bound  thither.  On 
this  rock  the  two  families  frequently  met  in  the 
evening,  and  enjoyed  in  silence  the  freshness  of  the 
flowers,  the  gentle  murmurs  of  the  fountain,  and 
the  last  blended  harmonies  of  light  and  shade. 

Nothing  could  be  more  charming  than  the  names 
which  were  bestowed  upon  some  of  the  delightful 
retreats  of  this  labyrinth.  The  rock  of  which  I 
have  been  speaking,  whence  they  could  discern  my 
approach  at  a  considerable  distance,  was  called  the 
Discovery  of  Friendship.  Paul  and  Virginia  had 
amused  themselves  by  planting  a  bamboo  on  that 
spot;  and  whenever  they  saw  me  coming,  they 
hoisted  a  little  white  handkerchief,  by  way  of  signal 
of  my  approach,  as  they  had  seen  a  flag  hoisted  on 
the  neighbouring  mountain  on  the  sight  of  a  vessel 
at  sea.  The  idea  struck  me  of  engraving  an  in- 
scription on  the  stalk  of  this  reed ;  for  I  never,  in 
the  course  of  my  travels,  experienced  any  thing  like 
the  pleasure  in  seeing  a  statue  or  other  monument 


78  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

of  ancient  art,  as  in  reading  a  well-written  inscrip- 
tion. It  seems  to  me  as  if  a  human  voice  issued 
from  the  stone,  and,  making  itself  heard  after  the 
lapse  of  ages,  addressed  man  in  the  midst  of  a 
desert,  to  tell  him  that  he  is  not  alone,  and  that 
other  men,  on  that  very  spot,  had  felt,  and  thought, 
and  suffered  like  himself.  If  the  inscription  belongs 
to  an  ancient  nation,  which  no  longer  exists,  it 
leads  the  soul  through  infinite  space,  and  strengthens 
the  consciousness  of  its  immortality,  by  demon- 
strating that  a  thought  has  survived  the  ruins  of 
an  empire. 

I  inscribed  then,  on  the  little  staff  of  Paul  and 
Virginia's  flag,  the  following  lines  of  Horace  : — 

Fratres  Helenas,  lucida  sidera, 
Ventorumque  regat  pater, 
Obstrictis,  aliis,  praster  lapiga. 

"  May  the  brothers  of  Helen,  bright  stars  like  you,  and  the  Father 
of  the  winds,  guide  you ;  and  may  you  feel  only  the  breath  of  the 
zephyr." 

There  was  a  gum-tree,  under  the  shade  of  which 
Paul  was  accustomed  to  sit,  to  contemplate  the  sea 
when  agitated  by  storms.  On  the  bark  of  this  tree, 
I  engraved  the  following  lines  from  Virgil : — 

Fortunatus  et  ille  deos  qui  novit  agrestes  1 
"  Happy  art  thou,  my  son,  in  knowing  only  the  pastoral  divinities." 

And  over  the  door  of  Madame  de  la  Tour's  cot- 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  79 

tage,  where  the  families  so  frequently  met,  I  placed 
this  line  : — 

At  secura  qules,  et  nescia  fallere  vita. 
"  Here  dwell  a  calm  conscience,  and  a  life  that  knows  not  deceit." 

But  Virginia  did  not  approve  of  my  Latin  :  she 
said,  that  what  I  had  placed  at  the  foot  of  her  flag- 
staff was  too  long  and  too  learned.  "  I  should  have 
liked  better,"  added  she,  "  to  have  seen  inscribed, 

EVER   AGITATED,  YET   CONSTANT." — "  Such    a   motto," 

I  answered,  "  would  have  been  still  more  applicable 
to  virtue."     My  reflection  made  her  blush. 

The  delicacy  of  sentiment  of  these  happy  families 
was  manifested  in  every  thing  around  them.  They 
gave  the  tenderest  names  to  objects  in  appearance 
the  most  indifferent.  A  border  of  orange,  plantain, 
and  rose-apple  trees,  planted  round  a  green  sward 
where  Virginia  and  Paul  sometimes  danced,  re- 
ceived the  name  of  Concord.  An  old  tree,  beneath 
the  shade  of  which  Madame  de  la  Tour  and  Mar- 
garet used  to  recount  their  misfortunes,  was  called 
the  Burial-place  of  Tears.  They  bestowed  the  names 
of  Brittany  and  Normandy  on  two  little  plots  of 
ground,  where  they  had  sown  corn,  strawberries, 
and  peas.  Domingo  and  Mary,  wishing,  in  imita- 
tion of  their  mistresses,  to  recall  to  mind  Angola 
and  Foullepointe,  the  places  of  their  birth  in  Africa, 
gave  those  names  to  the  little  fields  where  the 
grass  was  sown  with  which  they  wove  their  baskets, 


80  PAUL   AND  VIRGINIA. 

and  where  they  had  planted  a  calabash-tree.  Thus, 
by  cultivating  the  productions  of  their  respective 
climates,  these  exiled  families  cherished  the  dear 
illusions  which  bind  us  to  our  native  country,  and 
softened  their  regrets  in  a  foreign  land.  Alas  !  I 
have  seen  these  trees,  these  fountains,  these  heaps 
of  stones,  which  are  now  so  completely  overthrown, 
— which  now,  like  the  desolated  plains  of  Greece, 
present  nothing  but  masses  of  ruin  and  affecting 
remembrances,  all  but  called  into  life  by  the  many 
charming  appellations  thus  bestowed  upon  them ! 

But  perhaps  the  most  delightful  spot  of  this  en- 
closure was  that  called  Virginia's  resting-place.  At 
the  foot  of  the  rock  which  bore  the  name  of  The 
Discovery  of  Friendship,  is  a  small  crevice,  whence 
issues  a  fountain,  forming,  near  its  source,  a  little 
spot  of  marshy  soil  in  the  middle  of  a  field  of  rich 
grass.  At  the  time  of  Paul's  birth  I  had  made 
Margaret  a  present  of  an  Indian  cocoa  which  had 
been  given  me,  and  which  she  planted  on  the  border 
of  this  fenny  ground,  in  order  that  the  tree  might 
one  day  serve  to  mark  the  epoch  of  her  son's  birth. 
Madame  de  la  Tour  planted  another  cocoa  with  the 
same  view,  at  the  birth  of  Virginia.  These  nuts 
produced  two  cocoa-trees,  which  formed  the  only 
records  of  the  two  families ;  one  was  called  Paul's 
tree,  the  other,  Virginia's.  Their  growth  was  in 
the  same  proportion  as  that  of  the  two  young  per- 
sons, not  exactly  equal :  but  they  rose,  at  the  end 


VIRGINIA    AND    HER    GOATS. 


81 


PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA.  83 

of  twelve  years,  above  the  roofs  of  the  cottages. 
Already  their  tender  stalks  were  interwoven,  and 
clusters  of  young  cocoas  hung  from  them  over  the 
basin  of  the  fountain.     With  the  exception  of  these 
two  trees,  this  nook  of  the  rock  wras  left  as  it  had 
been  decorated  by  nature.     On  its  embrowned  and 
moist  sides  broad  plants  of  maiden-hair   glistened 
with  their  green  and  dark  stars  ;  and  tufts  of  wave- 
leaved  hart's  tongue,   suspended  like  long  ribands 
of  purpled  green,  floated  on  the  wind.     Near  this 
grew  a  chain  of  the  Madagascar  periwinkle,  the 
flowers  of  which  resemble  the  red  gilliflower ;  and 
the  long-podded  capsicum,  the  seed-vessels  of  which 
are  of  the  colour  of  blood,  and  more  resplendent 
than  coral.     Near  them,  the  herb  balm,  with  its 
heart-shaped   leaves,   and  the    sweet  basil,  which 
has  the  odour  of  the  clove,  exhaled  the  most  de- 
licious perfumes.     From  the  precipitous  side  of  the 
mountain  hung  the  graceful  lianas,  like  floating  dra- 
peries, forming  magnificent  canopies  of  verdure  on 
the  face  of  the  rocks.    The  sea-birds,  allured  by  the 
stillness  of  these  retreats,  resorted  here  to  pass  the 
night.     At  the  hour  of  sunset  we  could  perceive 
the  curlew  and  the  stint  skimming  along  the  sea- 
shore ;  the  frigate-bird  poised  high  in  air ;  and  the 
white  bird  of  the  tropic,  which  abandons,  with  the 
star  of  day,  the  solitudes  of  the  Indian  ocean.     Vir- 
ginia  took   pleasure  in   resting  herself  upon   the 
border  of  this  fountain,  decorated  with  wild  and 
F 


84  PAUL   AND  VIRGINIA. 

sublime  magnificence.  She  often  went  thither  to 
wash  the  linen  of  the  family  beneath  the  shade  of 
the  two  cocoa-trees,  and  thither  too  she  sometimes 
led  her  goats  to  graze.  While  she  was  making 
cheeses  of  their  milk,  she  loved  to  see  them  browse 
on  the  maiden-hair  fern  which  clothed  the  steep 
sides  of  the  rock,  and  hung  suspended  by  one  of 
its  cornices,  as  on  a  pedestal.  Paul,  observing  that 
Virginia  was  fond  of  this  spot,  brought  thither, 
from  the  neighbouring  forest,  a  great  variety  of 
bird's  nests.  The  old  birds  following  their  young, 
soon  established  themselves  in  this  new  colony. 
Virginia,  at  stated  times,  distributed  amongst  them 
grains  of  rice,  millet,  and  maize.  As  soon  as  she 
appeared,  the  whistling  blackbird,  the  amadavid  bird, 
whose  note  is  so  soft,  the  cardinal,  with  its  flame- 
coloured  plumage,  forsook  their  bushes  ;  the  parro- 
quet,  green  as  an  emerald,  descended  from  the  neigh- 
bouring fan-palms,  the  partridge  ran  along  the  grass ; 
all  advanced  promiscuously  towards  her,  like  a 
brood  of  chickens :  and  she  and  Paul  found  an  ex- 
haustless  source  of  amusement  in  observing  their 
sports,  their  repasts,  and  their  loves. 

Amiable  children !  thus  passed  your  earlier  days 
in  innocence,  and  in  obeying  the  impulses  of  kind- 
ness. How  many  times,  on  this  very  spot,  have 
your  mothers,  pressing  you  in  their  arms,  blessed 
Heaven  for  the  consolation  your  unfolding  virtues 
prepared  for  their  declining  years,  while  they  at 


PAUL    PRESENTING    VIRGINIA   WITH    THE   BIRD'S   NEST. 


85 


PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA.  87 

the  same  time  enjoyed  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
you  begin  life  under  the  happiest  auspices !  How 
many  times,  beneath  the  shade  of  those  rocks,  have 
I  partaken  with  them  of  your  rural  repasts,  which 
never  cost  any  animal  its  life !  Gourds  full  of  milk, 
fresh  eggs,  cakes  of  rice  served  up  on  plantain 
leaves,  with  baskets  of  mangoes,  oranges,  dates, 
pomegranates,  pineapples,  furnished  a  wholesome 
repast,  the  most  agreeable  to  the  eye,  as  well  as  de- 
licious to  the  taste,  that  can  possibly  be  imagined. 
Like  the  repast,  the  conversation  was  mild,  and 
free  from  every  thing  having  a  tendency  to  do 
harm.  Paul  often  talked  of  the  labours  of  the  day 
and  of  the  morrow.  He  was  continually  planning 
something  for  the  accommodation  of  their  little  so- 
ciety. Here  he  discovered  that  the  paths  were 
rugged  ;  there,  that  the  seats  were  uncomfortable  : 
sometimes  the  young  arbours  did  not  afford  suffi- 
cient shade,  and  Virginia  might  be  better  pleased 
elsewhere. 

During  the  rainy  season  the  two  families  met 
together  in  the  cottage,  and  employed  themselves 
in  weaving  mats  of  grass,  and  baskets  of  bamboo. 
Rakes,  spades,  and  hatchets,  were  ranged  along  the 
walls  in  the  most  perfect  order;  and  near  these  in- 
struments of  agriculture  were  heaped  its  products, 
— bags  of  rice,  sheaves  of  corn,  and  baskets  of  plan- 
tains. Some  degree  of  luxury  usually  accompanies 
abundance ;  and  Virginia  was  taught  by  her  mo- 


88  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

ther  and  Margaret  to  prepare  sherbert  and  cordials 
from  the  juice  of  the  sugar-cane,  the  lemon  and  the 
citron. 

When  night  came,  they  all  supped  together  by 
the  light  of  a  lamp;  after  which  Madame  de  la 
Tour  or  Margaret  related  some  story  of  travellers 
benighted  in  those  woods  of  Europe  that  are  still 
infested  by  banditti ;  or  told  a  dismal  tale  of  some 
shipwrecked  vessel,  thrown  by  the  tempest  upon 
the  rocks  of  a  desert  island.  To  these  recitals  the 
children  listened  with  eager  attention,  and  earnestly 
hoped  that  Heaven  would  one  day  grant  them  the 
joy  of  performing  the  rites  of  hospitality  towards 
such  unfortunate  persons.  When  the  time  for  re- 
pose arrived,  the  two  families  separated  and  retired 
for  the  night,  eager  to  meet  again  the  following 
morning.  Sometimes  they  were  lulled  to  repose  by 
the  beating  of  the  rains,  which  fell  in  torrents  upon 
the  roofs  of  their  cottages,  and  sometimes  by  the 
hollow  winds,  which  brought  to  their  ear  the  dis- 
tant roar  of  the  waves  breaking  upon  the  shore. 
They  blessed  God  for  their  own  safety,  the  feeling 
of  which  was  brought  home  more  forcibly  to  their 
minds  by  the  sound  of  remote  danger. 

Madame  de  la  Tour  occasionally  read  aloud  some 
affecting  history  of  the  Old  or  New  Testament. 
Her  auditors  reasoned  but  little  upon  these  sacred 
volumes,  for  their  theology  centred  in  a  feeling  of 
devotion  towards  the  Supreme  Being,  like  that  of 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  89 

nature;  and  their  morality  was  an  active  principle, 
like  that  of  the  Gospel.  These  families  had  no 
particular  days  devoted  to  pleasure,  and  others  to 
sadness.  Every  day  was  to  them  a  holyday,  and 
all  that  surrounded  them  one  holy  temple,  in  which 
they  ever  adored  the  Infinite  Intelligence,  the  Al- 
mighty God,  the  Friend  of  human  kind.  A  feeling 
of  confidence  in  his  supreme  power  filled  their 
minds  with  consolation  for  the  past,  with  fortitude 
under  present  trials,  and  with  hope  in  the  future. 
Compelled  by  misfortune  to  return  almost  to  a  state 
of  nature,  these  excellent  women  had  thus  deve- 
loped in  their  own  and  their  children's  bosoms  the 
feelings  most  natural  to  the  human  mind,  and  its 
best  support  under  affliction. 

But,  as  clouds  sometimes  arise,  and  cast  a  gloom 
over  the  best  regulated  tempers,  so  whenever  any 
member  of  this  little  society  appeared  to  be  labour- 
ing under  dejection,  the  rest  assembled  around,  and 
endeavoured  to  banish  her  painful  thoughts  by 
amusing  the  mind  rather  than  by  grave  arguments 
against  them.  Each  performed  this  kind  office  in 
their  own  appropriate  manner :  Margaret,  by  her 
gaiety ;  Madame  de  la  Tour,  by  the  gentle  consola- 
tions of  religion ;  Virginia,  by  her  tender  caresses ; 
Paul,  by  his  frank  and  engaging  cordiality.  Even 
Mary  and  Domingo  hastened  to  offer  their  succour, 
and  to  weep  with  those  that  wept.  Thus  do  weak 
8* 


90  PAUL  AND   VIRGINIA. 

plants  interweave  themselves  with  each  other,  in 
order  to  withstand  the  fury  of  the  tempest. 

During  the  fine  season,  they  went  every  Sunday 
to  the  church  of  the  Shaddock  Grove,  the  steeple 
of  which  you  see  yonder  upon  the  plain.  Many 
wealthy  members  of  the  congregation,  who  came  to 
church  in  palanquins,  sought  the  acquaintance  of 
these  united  families,  and  invited  them  to  parties 
of  pleasure.  But  they  always  repelled  these  over- 
tures with  respectful  politeness,  as  they  were  per- 
suaded that  the  rich  and  powerful  seek  the  society 
of  persons  in  an  inferior  station  only  for  the  sake 
of  surrounding  themselves  with  flatterers,  and  that 
every  flatterer  must  applaud  alike  all  the  actions 
of  his  patron,  whether  good  or  bad.  On  the  other 
hand,  they  avoided,  with  equal  care,  too  intimate 
an  acquaintance  with  the  lower  class,  who  are  ordi- 
narily jealous,  calumniating,  and  gross.  They  thus 
acquired,  with  some,  the  character  of  being  timid, 
and  with  others,  of  pride  :  but  their  reserve  was 
accompanied  with  so  much  obliging  politeness, 
above  all  towards  the  unfortunate  and  the  un- 
happy, that  they  insensibly  acquired  the  respect  of 
the  rich  and  the  confidence  of  the  poor. 

After  service,  some  kind  office  was  often  required 
at  their  hands  by  their  poor  neighbours.  Sometimes 
a  person  troubled  in  mind  sought  their  advice  ; 
sometimes  a  child  begged  them  to  visit  its  sick 
mother,  in  one  of  the  adjoining  hamlets.  They 


•JI1K    IIE.UUNG    OF    THK    BIBLE. 


PAUL  AND    VIRGINIA.  93 

always  took  with  them  a  few  remedies  for  the  or- 
dinary diseases  of  the  country,  which  they  admin- 
istered in  that  soothing  manner  which  stamps  a 
value  upon  the  smallest  favours.  Above  all,  they 
met  with  singular  success  in  administering  to  the 
disorders  of  the  mind,  so  intolerable  in  solitude, 
and  under  the  infirmities  of  a  weakened  frame. 
Madame  de  la  Tour  spoke  with  such  sublime  con- 
fidence of  the  Divinity,  that  the  sick,  while  listen- 
ing to  her,  almost  believed  him  present.  Virginia 
often  returned  home  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears, 
and  her  heart  overflowing  with  delight,  at  having 
had  an  opportunity  of  doing  good  ;  for  to  her  gene- 
rally was  confided  the  task  of  preparing  and  admi- 
nistering the  medicines, — a  task  which  she  fulfilled 
with  angelic  sweetness.  After  these  visits  of  cha- 
rity, they  sometimes  extended  their  walk  by  the 
Sloping  Mountain,  till  they  reached  my  dwelling, 
wh.ere  I  used  to  prepare  dinner  for  them  on  the 
banks  of  the  little  rivulet  which  glides  near  my 
cottage.  I  procured  for  these  occasions  a  few  bot- 
tles of  old  wine,  in  order  to  heighten  the  relish  of 
our  Oriental  repast  by  the  more  genial  productions 
of  Europe.  At  other  times  we  met  on  the  sea-shore, 
at  the  mouth  of  some  little  river,  or  rather  mere 
brook.  We  brought  from  home  the  provisions  fur- 
nished us  by  our  gardens,  to  which  we  added  those 
supplied  us  by  the  sea  in  abundant  variety.  We 
caught  on  these  shores  the  mullet,  the  roach,  and 


94  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

the  sea-urchin,  lobsters,  shrimps,  crabs,  oysters,  and 
all  other  kinds  of  shell-fish.  In  this  way,  we  often 
enjoyed  the  most  tranquil  pleasures  in  situations 
the  most  terrific.  Sometimes,  seated  upon  a  rock, 
under  the  shade  of  the  velvet  sunflower-tree,  we  saw 
the  enormous  waves  of  the  Indian  Ocean  break 
beneath  our  feet  with  a  tremendous  noise.  Paul, 
who  could  swim  like  a  fish,  would  advance  on  the 
reefs  to  meet  the  coming  billows;  then,  at  their 
near  approach,  would  run  back  to  the  beach,  closely 
pursued  by  the  foaming  breakers,  which  threw 
themselves,  with  a  roaring  noise,  far  on  the  sands. 
But  Virginia,  at  this  sight,  uttered  piercing  cries, 
and  said  that  such  sports  frightened  her  too  much. 
Other  amusements  were  not  wanting  on  these  fes- 
tive occasions.  Our  repasts  were  generally  followed 
by  the  songs  and  dances  of  the  two  young  people. 
Virginia  sang  the  happiness  of  pastoral  life,  and 
the  misery  of  those  who  were  impelled  by  avarice 
to  cross  the  raging  ocean,  rather  than  cultivate  the 
earth,  and  enjoy  its  bounties  in  peace.  Sometimes 
she  performed  a  pantomime  with  Paul,  after  the 
manner  of  the  negroes.  The  first  language  of  man 
is  pantomime  :  it  is  known  to  all  nations,  and  is  so 
natural  and  expressive,  that  the  children  of  the  Eu- 
ropean inhabitants  catch  it  with  facility  from  the 
negroes.  Virginia,  recalling,  from  among  the  his- 
tories which  her  mother  had  read  to  her,  those 
which  had  affected  her  most,  represented  the  prin- 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  95 

cipal  events  in  them  with  beautiful  simplicity. 
Sometimes  at  the  sound  of  Domingo's  tantam  she  ap- 
peared upon  the  green  sward,  bearing  a  pitcher  upon 
her  head,  and  advanced  with  a  timid  step  towards 
the  source  of  a  neighbouring  fountain,  to  draw  wa- 
ter. Domingo  and  Mary,  personating  the  shepherds 
of  Midian,  forbade  her  to  approach,  and  repulsed 
her  sternly.  Upon  this  Paul  flew  to  her  succour, 
beat  away  the  shepherds,  filled  Virginia's  pitcher, 
and  placing  it  upon  her  head,  bound  her  brows  at 
the  same  time  with  a  wreath  of  the  red  flowers  of 
the  Madagascar  periwinkle,  which  served  to  heigh- 
ten the  delicacy  of  her  complexion.  Then  joining 
in  their  sports,  I  took  upon  myself  the  part  of 
Raguel,  and  bestowed  upon  Paul,  my  daughter 
Zephora  in  marriage. 

Another  time  Virginia  would  represent  the  un- 
happy Ruth,  returning  poor  and  widowed  with  her 
mother-in-law,  who,  after  so  prolonged  an  absence, 
found  herself  as  unknown  as  in  a  foreign  land. 
Domingo  and  Mary  personated  the  reapers.  The 
supposed  daughter  of  Naomi  followed  their  steps, 
gleaning  here  and  there  a  few  ears  of  corn.  When 
interrogated  by  Paul, — a  part  which  he  performed 
with  the  gravity  of  a  patriarch, — she  answered 
his  questions  with  a  faltering  voice.  He  then, 
touched  with  compassion,  granted  an  asylum  to  in- 
nocence, and  hospitality  to  misfortune.  He  filled 
her  lap  with  plenty ;  and,  leading  her  towards  us 


9t)  PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA. 

as  before  the  elders  of  the  city,  declared  his  purpose 
to  take  her  in  marriage.  At  this  scene,  Madame 
de  la  Tour,  recalling  the  desolate  situation  in  which 
she  had  been  left  by  her  relations,  her  widowhood, 
and  the  kind  reception  she  had  met  with  from  Mar- 
garet, succeeded  now  by  the  soothing  hope  of  a  happy 
union  between  their  children,  could  not  forbear 
weeping ;  and  these  mixed  recollections  of  good  and 
evil  caused  us  all  to  unite  with  her  in  shedding  tears 
of  sorrow  and  of  joy. 

These  dramas  were  performed  with  such  an  air  of 
reality  that  you  might  have  fancied  yourself  trans- 
ported to  the  plains  of  Syria  or  of  Palestine.  We 
were  not  unfurnished  with  decorations,  lights,  or  an 
orchestra,  suitable  to  the  representation.  The 
scene  was  generally  placed  in  an  open  space  of 
the  forest,  the  diverging  paths  from  which  formed 
around  us  numerous  arcades  of  foliage,  under  which 
we  were  sheltered  from  the  heat  all  the  middle  of 
the  day  ;  but  when  the  sun  descended  towards  the 
horizon,  its  rays,  broken  by  the  trunks  of  the  trees, 
darted  amongst  the  shadows  of  the  forest  in  long 
lines  of  light,  producing  the  most  magnificent  effect. 
Sometimes  its  broad  disk  appeared  at  the  end  of  an 
avenue,  lighting  it  up  with  insufferable  brightness. 
The  foliage  of  the  trees,  illuminated  from  beneath 
by  its  saffron  beams,  glowed  with  the  lustre  of 
the  topaz  and  the  emerald.  Their  brown  and 
mossy  trunks  appeared  transformed  into  columns 


VIRGINIA    ATTENDING   ON    THE    SICK    POOR. 


'J7 


PAUL   AND  VIRGINIA.  99 

of  antique  bronze  ;  and  the  birds,  which  had  retired 
in  silence  to  their  leafy  shades  to  pass  the  night, 
surprised  to  see  the  radiance  of  a  second  morning, 
hailed  the  star  of  day  all  together  with  innumerable 
carols. 

Night  often  overtook  us  during  these  rural  enter- 
tainments; but  the  purity  of  the  air  and  the 
warmth  of  the  climate,  admitted  of  our  sleeping  in 
the  woods,  without  incurring  any  danger  by  expo- 
sure to  the  weather,  and  no  less  secure  from  the 
molestation  of  robbers.  On  our  return  the  follow- 
ing day  to  our  respective  habitations,  we  found 
them  in  exactly  the  same  state  in  which  they  had 
been  left.  In  this  island,  then  unsophisticated  by 
the  pursuits  of  commerce,  such  were  the  honesty 
and  primitive  manners  of  the  population,  that  the 
doors  of  many  houses  were  without  a  key,  and  even 
a  lock  itself  was  an  object  of  curiosity  to  not  a  few 
of  the  native  inhabitants. 

There  were,  however,  some  days  in  the  year  cele- 
brated by  Paul  and  Virginia  in  a.  more  peculiar 
manner ;  these  were  the  birth-days  of  their  mothers. 
Virginia  never  failed  the  day  before  to  prepare  some 
wheaten  cakes,  which  she  distributed  among  a  few 
poor  white  families,  born  in  the  island,  who  had 
never  eaten  European  bread.  These  unfortunate 
people,  uncared  for  by  the  blacks,  were  reduced  to 
live  on  tapioca  in  the  woods ;  and  as  they  had  nei- 
ther the  insensibility  which  is  the  result  of  slavery, 


100  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

nor  the  fortitude  which  springs  from  a  liberal 
education,  to  enable  them  to  support  their  poverty, 
their  situation  was  deplorable.  These  cakes  were 
all  that  Virginia  had  it  in  her  power  to  give  away, 
but  she  conferred  the  gift  in  so  delicate  a  manner 
as  to  add  tenfold  to  its  value.  In  the  first  place, 
Paul  was  commissioned  to  take  the  cakes  himself  to 
these  families,  and  get  their  promise  to  come  and 
spend  the  next  day  at  Madame  de  la  Tour's.  Ac- 
cordingly, mothers  of  families,  with  two  or  three 
thin,  yellow,  miserable  looking  daughters,  so  timid 
that  they  dared  not  look  up,  made  their  appearance. 
Virginia  soon  put  them  at  their  ease ;  she  waited 
upon  them  with  refreshments,  the  excellence  of 
which  she  endeavoured  to  heighten  by  relating  some 
particular  circumstance  which  in  her  own  estima- 
tion, vastly  improved  them.  One  beverage  had 
been  prepared  by  Margaret ;  another,  by  her  mo- 
ther :  her  brother  himself  had  climbed  some  lofty 
tree  for  the  very  fruit  she  was  presenting.  She 
would  then  get  Paul  to  dance  with  them,  nor  would 
she  leave  them  till  she  saw  that  they  were  happy. 
She  wished  them  to  partake  of  the  joy  of  her  own 
family.  "  It  is  only,"  she  said,  "  by  promoting  the 
happiness  of  others,  that  we  can  secure  our  own." 
When  they  left,  she  generally  presented  them  with 
some  little  article  they  seemed  to  fancy,  enforcing 
their  acceptance  of  it  by  some  delicate  pretext,  that 
she  might  not  appear  to  know  they  were  in  want. 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  101 

If  she  remarked  that  their  clothes  were  much  tatter- 
ed, she  obtained  her  mother's  permission  to  give 
them  some  of  her  own,  and  then  sent  Paul  to 
leave  them  secretly  at  their  cottage  doors.  She 
thus  followed  the  divine  precept, — concealing  the 
benefactor,  and  revealing  only  the  benefit. 

You  Europeans,  whose  minds  are  imbued  from 
infancy  with  prejudices  at  variance  with  happiness, 
cannot  imagine  all  the  instruction  and  pleasure  to 
be  derived  from  nature.  Your  souls,  confined  to  a 
small  sphere  of  intelligence,  soon  reach  the  limit 
of  its  artificial  enjoyments :  but  nature  and  the 
heart  are  inexhaustible.  Paul  and  Virginia  had 
neither  clock,  nor  almanack,  nor  books  of  chrono- 
logy, history  or  philosophy.  The  periods  of  their 
lives  were  regulated  by  those  of  the  operations  of 
nature,  and  their  familiar  conversation  had  a  refer- 
ence to  the  changes  of  the  seasons.  They  knew 
the  time  of  day  by  the  shadows  of  the  trees ;  the 
seasons,  by  the  times  when  those  trees  bore  flowers 
or  fruit ;  and  the  years,  by  the  number  of  their  har- 
vests. These  soothing  images  diffused  an  inexpres- 
sible charm  over  their  conversation.  "It  is  time 
to  dine,"  said  Virginia,  "the  shadows  of  the  plantain- 
trees  are  at  their  roots :"  or,  "  Night  approaches, 
the  tamarinds  are  closing  their  leaves."  "  When 
will  you  come  and  see  us  ?"  inquired  some  of  her 
companions  in  the  neighbourhood.  "At  the  time 
of  the  sugar-canes,"  answered  Virginia.  "  Your 


102  PAUL   AND  VIRGINIA. 

visit  will  be  then  still  more  delightful,"  resumed 
her  young  acquaintances.  When  she  was  asked 
what  was  her  own  age  and  that  of  Paul, — "  My 
brother,"  said  she,  "  is  as  old  as  the  great  cocoa-tree 
of  the  fountain ;  and  I  am  as  old  as  the  little  one  : 
the  mangoes  have  bore  fruit  twelve  times,  and  the 
orange-trees  have  flowered  four-and-twcnty  times, 
since  I  came  into  the  world."  Their  lives  seemed 
linked  to  that  of  the  trees,  like  those  of  Fauns  or 
Dryads.  They  knew  no  other  historical  epochs 
than  those  of  the  lives  of  their  mothers,  no  other 
chronology  than  that  of  their  orchards,  and  no 
other  philosophy  than  that  of  doing  good,  and  re- 
signing themselves  to  the  will  of  Heaven. 

What  need,  indeed,  had  these  young  people  of 
riches  or  learning  such  as  ours?  Even  their  ne- 
cessities and  their  ignorance  increased  their  happi- 
ness. No  day  passed  in  which  they  were  not  of 
some  service  to  one  another,  or  in  which  they  did 
not  mutually  impart  some  instruction.  Yes,  in- 
struction ;  for  if  errors  mingled  with  it,  they  were, 
at  least,  not  of  a  dangerous  character.  A  pure- 
minded  being  has  none  of  that  description  to  fear. 
Thus  grew  these  children  of  nature.  No  care  had 
troubled  their  peace,  no  intemperance  had  corrupt- 
ed their  blood,  no  misplaced  passion  had  depraved 
their  hearts.  Love,  innocence,  and  piety,  possessed 
their  souls ;  and  those  intellectual  graces  were  un- 
folding daily  in  their  features,  their  attitudes,  and 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  103 

their  movements.  Still  in  the  morning  of  life,  they 
had  all  its  blooming  freshness :  and  surely  such  in 
the  garden  of  Eden  appeared  our  first  parents,  when 
coming  from  the  hands  of  God,  they  first  saw,  and 
approached  each  other,  and  conversed  together,  like 
brother  and  sister.  Virginia  was  gentle,  modest, 
and  confiding  as  Eve ;  and  Paul,  like  Adam,  united 
the  stature  of  manhood  with  the  simplicity  of  a 
child. 

Sometimes,  if  alone  with  Virginia,  he  has  a 
thousand  times  told  me,  he  used  to  say  to  her,  on 
his  return  from  labour, — "  When  I  am  wearied,  the 
sight  of  you  refreshes  me.  If  from  the  summit  of 
the  mountain  I  perceive  you  below  in  the  valley, 
you  appear  to  me  in  the  midst  of  our  orchard  like  a 
blooming  rose-bud.  If  you  go  towards  our  mother's 
house,  the  partridge,  when  it  runs  to  meet  its  young, 
has  a  shape  less  beautiful,  and  a  step  less  light. 
When  I  lose  sight  of  you  through  the  trees,  I  have 
no  need  to  see  you  in  order  to  find  you  again. 
Something  of  you,  I  know  not  how,  remains  for  me 
in  the  air  through  which  you  have  passed,  on  the 
grass  whereon  you  have  been  seated.  When  I  come 
near  you,  you  delight  all  my  senses.  The  azure  of 
the  sky  is  less  charming  than  the  blue  of  your  eyes, 
and  the  song  of  the  amadavid  bird  less  soft  than 
the  sound  of  your  voice.  If  I  only  touch  you  with 
the  tip  of  my  finger,  my  whole  frame  trembles  with 
pleasure.  Do  you  remember  the  day  when  we 


104  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

crossed  over  the  great  stones  of  the  river  of  the 
Three  Breasts  ?  I  was  very  tired  before  we  reached 
the  bank :  but,  as  soon  as  I  had  taken  you  in  my 
arms,  I  seemed  to  have  wings  like  a  bird.  Tell  me 
by  what  charm  you  have  thus  enchanted  me  ?  Is  it  by 
your  wisdom  ? — Our  mothers  have  more  than  either 
of  us.  Is  it  by  your  caresses  ? — They  embrace  me 
much  oftener  than  you.  I  think  it  must  be  by 
your  goodness.  I  shall  never  forget  how  you  walk- 
ed bare-footed  to  the  Black  Kiver,  to  ask  pardon 
for  the  poor  run-away  slave.  Here,  my  beloved, 
take  this  flowering  branch  of  a  lemon-tree,  which  I 
have  gathered  in  the  forest :  you  will  let  it  remain 
at  night  near  your  bed.  Eat  this  honey-comb  too, 
which  I  have  taken  for  you  from  the  top  of  a 
rock.  But  first  lean  on  my  bosom,  and  I  shall  be 
refreshed." 

Virginia  would  answer  him, — "  Oh,  my  dear 
brother,  the  rays  of  the  sun  in  the  morning  on  the 
tops  of  the  rocks  give  me  less  joy  than  the  sight 
of  you,  I  love  my  mother, — I  love  yours ;  but 
when  they  call  you  their  son,  I  love  them  a  thousand 
times  more.  When  they  caress  you,  I  feel  it  more 
sensibly  than  when  I  am  caressed  myself.  You 
ask  me  what  makes  you  love  me.  Why,  all  creatures 
that  are  brought  up  together  love  one  another. 
Look  at  our  birds ;  reared  up  in  the  same  nests,  they 
love  each  other  as  we  do ;  they  are  always  together 
like  us.  Hark !  how  they  call  and  answer  from  one 


PAUT.   AND    VIRGINIA.  105 

tree  to  another.  So  when  the  echoes  bring  to  my 
ears  the  air  which  you  play  on  your  flute  on  the 
top  of  the  mountain,  I  repeat  the  words  at  the 
bottom  of  the  valley.  You  are  dear  to  me  more 
especially  since  the  day  when  you  wanted  to  fight 
the  master  of  the  slave  for  me.  Since  that  time 
how  often  have  I  said  to  myself,  (  Ah,  my  brother 
has  a  good  heart ;  but  for  him,  I  should  have  died 
of  terror.'  I  pray  to  God  every  day  for  my  mother 
and  for  yours ;  for  you,  and  for  our  poor  servants ; 
but  when  I  pronounce  your  name,  my  devotion 
seems  to  increase ; — I  ask  so  earnestly  of  God  that 
no  harm  may  befal  you !  Why  do  you  go  so  far,  and 
climb  so  high,  to  seek  fruits  and  flowers  for  me  ? 
Have  we  not  enough  in  our  garden  already  ?  How 
much  you  are  fatigued, — you  look  so  warm !" — and 
with  her  little  white  handkerchief  she  would  wipe 
the  damps  from  his  face,  and  then  imprint  a  tender 
kiss  on  his  forehead. 

For  some  time  past,  however,  Virginia-  had  felt 
her  heart  agitated  by  new  sensations.  Her  beauti- 
ful blue  eyes  lost  their  lustre,  her  cheek  its  freshness, 
and  her  frame  was  overpowered  with  a  universal 
langour.  Serenity  no  longer  sat  upon  her  brow, 
nor  smiles  played  upon  her  lips.  She  would  become 
all  at  once  gay  without  cause  for  joy,  and  melan- 
choly without  any  subject  for  grief.  She  fled  her 
innocent  amusements,  her  gentle  toils,  and  even  the 
society  of  her  beloved  family  j  wandering  about  the 


106  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

most  unfrequented  parts  of  the  plantations,  and  seek- 
ing every  where  the  rest  which  she  could  no  where 
find.  Sometimes,  at  the  sight  of  Paul,  she  advanced 
sportively  to  meet  him ;  but,  when  about  to  accost 
him,  was  overcome  by  a  sudden  confusion  ;  her  pale 
cheeks  were  covered  with  blushes,  and  her  eyes  no 
longer  dared  to  meet  those  of  her  brother.  Paul 
said  to  her, — "  The  rocks  are  covered  with  verdure, 
our  birds  begin  to  sing  when  you  approach,  every 
thing  around  you  is  gay,  and  you  only  are  unhappy." 
He  then  endeavoured  to  soothe  her  by  his  embraces, 
but  she  turned  away  her  head,  and  fled,  trembling 
towards  her  mother.  The  caresses  of  her  brother 
excited  too  much  emotion  in  her  agitated  heart,  and 
she  sought,  in  the  arms  of  her  mother,  refuge  from 
herself.  Paul,  unused  to  the  secret  windings  of  the 
female  heart,  vexed  himself  in  vain  in  endeavouring 
to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  these  new  and  strange 
caprices.  Misfortunes  seldom  come  alone,  and  a 
serious  calamity  now  impended  over  these  families. 
One  of  those  summers,  which  sometimes  deso- 
late the  countries  situated  between  the  tropics,  now 
began  to  spread  its  ravages  over  this  island.  It 
was  near  the  end  of  December,  when  the  sun,  in 
Capricorn,  darts  over  the  Mauritius,  during  the 
space  of  three  weeks,  its  vertical  fires.  The  south- 
east wind,  which  prevails  throughout  almost  the 
whole  year,  no  longer  blew.  V^st  columns  of  dust 
arose  from  the  highways,  and  hung  suspended  in 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  107 

the  air ;  the  ground  was  every  where  broken  into 
clefts;  the  grass  was  burnt  up;  hot  exhalations 
issued  from  the  sides  of  the  mountains,  and  their 
rivulets,  for  the  most  part,  became  dry.  No  refresh- 
ing cloud  ever  arose  from  the  sea :  fiery  vapours, 
only,  during  the  day,  ascended  from  the  plains,  and 
appeared,  at  sunset,  like  the  reflection  of  a  vast 
conflagration.  Night  brought  no  coolness  to  the 
heated  atmosphere ;  and  the  red  moon  rising  in  the 
misty  horizon,  appeared  of  supernatural  magnitude. 
The  drooping  cattle,  on  the  sides  of  the  hills, 
stretching  out  their  necks  towards  heaven,  and 
panting  for  breath,  made  the  valleys  re-echo  with 
their  melancholy  lowings :  even  the  Caffre  by  whom 
they  were  led  threw  himself  upon  the  earth,  in 
search  of  some  cooling  moisture :  but  his  hopes 
were  vain ;  the  scorching  sun  had  penetrated  the 
whole  soil,  and  the  stifling  atmosphere  everywhere 
resounded  with  the  buzzing  noise  of  insects,  seek- 
ing to  allay  their  thirst  with  the  blood  of  men  and 
of  animals. 

During  this  sultry  season,  Virginia's  restlessness 
and  disquietude  were  much  increased.  One  night, 
in  particular,  being  unable  to  sleep,  she  arose  from 
her  bed,  sat  down,  and  returned  to  rest  again ;  but 
could  find  in  no  attitude  either  slumber  or  repose. 
At  length  she  bent  her  way,  by  the  light  of  the 
moon,  towards  her  fountain,  and  gazed  at  its 
spring,  which,  notwithstanding  the  drought,  still 


108  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

trickled,  in  silver  threads  down  the  brown  sides  of 
the  rock.  She  flung  herself  into  the  basin :  its  cool- 
ness reanimated  her  spirits,  and  a  thousand  soothing 
remembrances  came  to  her  mind.  She  recollected 
that  in  her  infancy  her  mother  and  Margaret  had 
amused  themselves  by  bathing  her  with  Paul  in 
this  very  spot ;  that  he  afterwards,  reserving  this 
bath  for  her  sole  use,  had  hollowed  out  its  bed, 
covered  the  bottom  with  sand,  and  sown  aromatic 
herbs  around  its  borders.  She  saw  in  the  water, 
upon  her  naked  arms  and  bosom,  the  reflection  of 
the  two  cocoa  trees  which  were  planted  at  her  own 
and  her  brother's  birth,  and  which  interwove  above 
her  head  their  green  branches  and  young  fruit. 
She  thought  of  Paul's  friendship,  sweeter  than  the 
odour  of  the  blossoms,  purer  than  the  waters  of  the 
fountain,  stronger  than  the  intertwining  palm-tree, 
and  she  sighed.  Reflecting  on  the  hour  of  the 
night,  and  the  profound  solitude,  her  imagination 
became  disturbed.  Suddenly  she  flew,  affrighted, 
from  those  dangerous  shades,  and  those  waters 
which  seemed  to  her  hotter  than  the  tropical  sun- 
beam, and  ran  to  her  mother  for  refuge.  More  than 
once,  wishing  to  reveal  her  sufferings,  she  pressed 
her  mother's  hand  within  her  own;  more  than 
once  she  was  ready  to  pronounce  the  name  of  Paul : 
but  her  oppressed  heart  left  her  lips  no  power  of 
utterance,  and,  leaning  her  head  on  her  mother's 
bosom,  she  bathed  it  with  her  tears. 


VIKGIMA,   FLVINU    TO    11  Jill    MOT11EK    FOR    REFUGE. 


109 


10 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  Ill 

Madame  de  la  Tour,  though  she  easily  discerned 
the  source  of  her  daughter's  uneasiness,  did  not 
think  proper  to  speak  to  her  on  the  subject.  "My 
dear  child,"  said  she,  "  offer  up  your  supplications 
to  God,  who  disposes  at  his  will  of  health  and  of 
life.  He  subjects  you  to  trial  now,  in  order  to  re- 
compense you  hereafter.  Remember  that  we  are 
only  placed  upon  earth  for  the  exercise  of  virtue." 

The  excessive  heat  in  the  meantime  raised  vast 
masses  of  vapour  from  the  ocean,  which  hung  over 
the  island  like  an  immense  parasol,  and  gathered 
round  the  summits  of  the  mountains.  Long  flakes 
of  fire  issued  from  time  to  time  from  these  mist- 
embosomed  peaks.  The  most  awful  thunder  soon 
after  re-echoed  through  the  woods,  the  plains,  and 
the  valleys :  the  rains  fell  from  the  skies  in  cata- 
racts ;  foaming  torrents  rushed  down  the  sides  of 
this  mountain;  the  bottom  of  the  valley  became 
a  sea,  and  the  elevated  platform  on  which  the  cot- 
tages were  built,  a  little  island.  The  accumulated 
waters,  having  no  other  outlet,  rushed  with  violence 
through  the  narrow  gorge  which  leads  into  the 
valley,  tossing  and  roaring,  and  bearing  along  with 
them  a  mingled  wreck  of  soil,  trees,  and  rocks. 

The  trembling  families  meantime  addressed  their 
prayers  to  God  all  together  in  the  cottage  of  Ma- 
dame de  la  Tour,  the  roof  of  which  cracked  fearfully 
from  the  force  of  the  winds.  So  incessant  and  vivid 
were  the  lightnings,  that  although  the  doors  and 


112  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

window-shutters  were  securely  fastened,  every  object 
without  could  be  distinctly  seen  through  the  joints 
in  the  wood-work !  Paul,  followed  by  Domingo,  wrent 
with  intrepidity  from  one  cottage  to  another,  not- 
withstanding the  fury  of  the  tempest ;  here  support- 
ing a  partition  with  a  buttress,  there  driving  in  a 
stake ;  and  only  returning  to  the  family  to  calm 
their  fears,  by  the  expression  of  a  hope  that  the 
storm  was  passing  away.  Accordingly,  in  the  even- 
ing the  rains  ceased,  the  trade-winds  of  the  south- 
east pursued  their  ordinary  course,  the  tempestuous 
clouds  were  driven  away  to  the  northward,  and  the 
setting  sun  appeared  in  the  horizon. 

Virginia's  first  wish  was  to  visit  the  spot  called 
her  Resting-place.  Paul  approached  her  with  a 
timid  air,  and  offered  her  the  assistance  of  his  arm ; 
she  accepted  it  with  a  smile,  and  they  left  the  cot- 
tage together.  The  air  was  clear  and  fresh  :  white 
vapours  arose  from  the  ridges  of  the  mountain, 
which  was  furrowed  here  and  there  by  the  courses 
of  torrents,  marked  in  foam,  and  now  beginning  to 
dry  up  on  all  sides.  As  for  the  garden,  it  was  com- 
pletely torn  to  pieces  by  deep  water-courses,  the 
roots  of  most  of  the  fruit  trees  were  laid  bare,  and  vast 
heaps  of  sand  covered  the  borders  of  the  meadows, 
and  had  choked  up  Virginia's  bath.  The  two  cocoa 
trees,  however,  were  still  erect,  and  still  retained 
their  freshness ;  but  they  were  no  longer  surrounded 
by  turf,  or  arbours,  or  birds,  except  a  few  amadavid 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  113 

birds,  which,  upon  the  points  of  the  neighbouring 
rocks,  were  lamenting,  in  plaintive  notes,  the  loss  of 
their  young. 

At  the  sight  of  this  general  desolation,  Virginia 
exclaimed  to  Paul, — "  You  brought  birds  hither, 
and  the  hurricane  has  killed  them.  You  planted 
this  garden,  and  it  is  now  destroyed.  Every  thing 
then  upon  earth  perishes,  and  it  is  only  Heaven 
that  is  not  subject  to  change." — "  Why,"  answered 
Paul,  "  cannot  I  give  you  something  that  belongs 
to  Heaven  ?  but  I  have  nothing  of  my  own  even 
upon  the  earth."  Virginia  with  a  blush  replied, 
"  You  have  the  picture  of  Saint  Paul."  As  soon  as 
she  had  uttered  the  words,  he  flew  in  quest  of  it 
to  his  mother's  cottage.  This  picture  was  a  minia- 
ture of  Paul  the  Hermit,  which  Margaret,  who 
viewed  it  with  feelings  of  great  devotion,  had  worn 
at  her  neck  while  a  girl,  and  which,  after  she  be- 
came a  mother,  she  had  placed  round  her  child's. 
It  had  even  happened,  that  being,  while  pregnant, 
abandoned  by  all  the  world,  and  constantly  occu- 
pied in  contemplating  the  image  of  this  benevolent 
recluse,  her  offspring  had  contracted  some  resem- 
blance to  this  revered  object.  She  therefore  be- 
stowed upon  him  the  name  of  Paul,  giving  him  for 
his  patron  a  saint  who  had  passed  his  life  far  from 
mankind  by  whom  he  had  been  first  deceived  and 
then  forsaken.  Virginia,  on  receiving  this  little 
present  from  the  hands  of  Paul,  said  to  him,  with 
H  10* 


114  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

emotion,  "  My  dear  brother,  I  will  never  part  with 
this  while  I  live ;  nor  will  I  ever  forget  that  you 
have  given  me  the  only  thing  you  have  in  the 
world."  At  this  tone  of  friendship, — this  unhoped 
for  return  of  familiarity  and  tenderness,  Paul  at- 
tempted to  embrace  her ;  but,  light  as  a  bird,  she 
escaped  him,  and  fled  away,  leaving  him  astonished, 
and  unable  to  account  for  conduct  so  extraordinary. 
Meanwhile  Margaret  said  to  Madame  de  la  Tour, 
"  Why  do  we  not  unite  our  children  by  marriage  ? 
They  have  a  strong  attachment  for  each  other,  and 
though  my  son  hardly  understands  the  real  nature 
of  his  feelings,  yet  great  care  and  watchfulness  will 
be  necessary.  Under  such  circumstances,  it  will  be 
as  well  not  to  leave  them  too  much  together." 
Madame  de  la  Tour  replied,  "  They  are  too  young, 
and  too  poor.  What  grief  would  it  occasion  us  to 
see  Virginia  bring  into  the  world  unfortunate  chil- 
dren, whom  she  would  not  perhaps  have  sufficient 
strength  to  rear !  Your  negro,  Domingo,  is  almost 
too  old  to  labour ;  Mary  is  infirm.  As  for  myself, 
my  dear  friend,  at  the  end  of  fifteen  years,  I  find 
my  strength  greatly  decreased;  the  feebleness  of 
age  advances  rapidly  in  hot  climates,  and,  above 
all,  under  the  pressure  of  misfortune.  Paul  is  our 
only  hope :  let  us  wait  till  he  comes  to  maturity, 
and  his  increased  strength  enables  him  to  support 
us  by  his  labour :  at  present  you  well  know  that 
we  have  only  sufficient  to  supply  the  wants  of  the 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  115 

day  :  but  were  we  to  send  Paul  for  a  short  time  to 
the  Indies,  he  might  acquire,  by  commerce,  the 
means  of  purchasing  some  slaves ;  and  at  his  re- 
turn we  could  unite  him  to  Virginia;  for  I  am 
persuaded  no  one  on  earth  would  render  her  so 
happy  as  your  son.  We  will  consult  our  neighbour 
on  this  subject." 

They  accordingly  asked  my  advice,  which  was 
in  accordance  with  Madame  de  la  Tour's  opinion. 
"  The  Indian  seas,"  I  observed  to  them,  "  are  calm, 
and,  in  choosing  a  favourable  time  of  the  year,  the 
voyage  out  is  seldom  longer  than  six  weeks ;  and 
the  same  time  may  be  allowed  for  the  return  home. 
We  will  furnish  Paul  with  a  little  venture  from  my 
neighbourhood,  where  he  is  much  beloved.  If  we 
were  only  to  supply  him  with  some  raw  cotton,  of 
which  we  make  no  use  for  want  of  mills  to  work 
it,  some  ebony,  which  is  here  so  common  that  it 
serves  us  for  firing,  and  some  rosin,  which  is  found 
in  our  woods,  he  would  be  able  to  sell  those  articles, 
though  useless  here,  to  good  advantage  in  the  Indies." 

I  took  upon  myself  to  obtain  permission  from 
Monsieur  de  la  Bourdonnais  to  undertake  this 
voyage ;  and  I  determined  previously  to  mention 
the  affair  to  Paul.  But  what  was  my  surprise,  when 
this  young  man  said  to  me,  with  a  degree  of  good 
sense  above  his  age,  "  And  why  do  you  wish  me  to 
leave  my  family  for  this  precarious  pursuit  of  for- 
tune ?"  Is  there  any  commerce  in  the  world  more 


116  PAUL  AND   VIRGINIA. 

advantageous  than  the  culture  of  the  ground,  which 
yields  sometimes  fifty  or  a  hundred-fold  ?  If  we 
wish  to  engage  in  commerce,  can  we  not  do  so  by 
carrying  our  superfluities  to  the  town  without  my 
wandering  to  the  Indies  ?  Our  mothers  tell  me, 
that  Domingo  is  old  and  feeble ;  but  I  am  young, 
and  gather  strength  every  day.  If  any  accident 
should  happen  during  my  absence,  above  all  to  Vir- 
ginia, who  already  suffers — Oh,  no,  no ! — I  cannot 
resolve  to  leave  them." 

So  decided  an  answer  threw  me  into  great  per- 
plexity, for  Madame  de  la  Tour  had  not  concealed 
from  me  the  cause  of  Virginia's  illness  and  want  of 
spirits,  and  her  desire  of  separating  these  young 
people  till  they  were  a  few  years  older.  I  took  care, 
however,  not  to  drop  any  thing  which  could  lead 
Paul  to  suspect  the  existence  of  these  motives. 

About  this  period  a  ship  from  France  brought 
Madame  de  la  Tour  a  letter  from  her  aunt.  The 
fear  of  death,  without  which  hearts  as  insensible  as 
her's  would  never  feel,  had  alarmed  her  into  com- 
passion. When  she  wrote  she  was  recovering  from 
a  dangerous  illness,  which  had,  however,  left  her 
incurably  languid  and  weak.  She  desired  her  niece 
to  return  to  France :  or,  if  her  health  forbade  her 
to  undertake  so  long  a  voyage,  she  begged  her  to 
send  Virginia,  on  whom  she  promised  to  bestow  a 
good  education,  to  procure  for  her  a  splendid  mar- 
riage, and  to  leave  her  heiress  of  her  whole  fortune. 


PAUL  AND    VIRGINIA.  117 

She  concluded  by  enjoining  strict  obedience  to  her 
will,  in  gratitude,  she  said,  for  her  great  kindness. 

At  the  perusal  of  this  letter  general  consternation 
spread  itself  through  the  whole  assembled  party. 
Domingo  and  Mary  began  to  weep.  Paul,  motion- 
less with  surprise,  appeared  almost  ready  to  burst 
with  indignation;  while  Virginia,  fixing  her  eyes 
anxiously  upon  her  mother,  had  not  power  to  utter 
a  single  word.  "And  can  you  now  leave  us?" 
cried  Margaret  to  Madame  de  la  Tour.  "  No,  my 
dear  friend,  no,  my  beloved  children,"  replied  Ma- 
dame de  la  Tour ;  "  I  will  never  leave  you.  I 
have  lived  with  you,  and  with  you  I  will  die.  I 
have  known  no  happiness  but  in  your  affection.  If 
my  health  be  deranged,  my  past  misfortunes  are  the 
cause.  My  heart  has  been  deeply  wounded  by  the 
cruelty  of  my  relations,  and  by  the  loss  of  my  beloved 
husband.  But  I  have  since  found  more  consolation 
and  more  real  happiness  with  you  in  these  humble 
huts,  than  all  the  wealth  of  my  family  could  now 
lead  me  to  expect  in  my  own  country." 

At  this  soothing  language  every  eye  overflowed 
with  tears  of  delight.  Paul,  pressing  Madame  de 
la  Tour  in  his  arms,  exclaimed, — "  Neither  will  I 
leave  you !  I  will  not  go  to  the  Indies.  We  will 
all  labour  for  you,  dear  mamma;  and  you  shall 
never  feel  any  want  with  us."  But  of  the  whole 
society,  the  person  who  displayed  the  least  trans- 
port, and  who  probably  felt  the  most,  was  Vir- 


118  PAUL   AND  VIRGINIA. 

ginia ;  and  during  the  remainder  of  the  day,  the 
gentle  gaiety  which  flowed  from  her  heart,  and 
proved  that  her  peace  of  mind  was  restored,  com- 
pleted the  general  satisfaction. 

At  sun-rise  the  next  day,  just  as  they  had  con- 
cluded offering  up,  as  usual,  their  morning  prayer 
before  breakfast,  Domingo  came  to  inform  them  that 
a  gentleman  on  horseback,  followed  by  two  slaves, 
was  coming  towards  the  plantation.  It  was  Mon- 
sieur de  la  Bourdonnais.  He  entered  the  cottage, 
where  he  found  the  family  at  breakfast.  Virginia 
had  prepared,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
country,  coffee,  and  rice  boiled  in  water.  To  these 
she  had  added  hot  yams,  and  fresh  plantains.  The 
leaves  of  the  plantain-tree,  supplied  the  want  of 
table-linen  ;  and  calabash  shells,  split  in  two,  served 
for  cups.  The  governor  exhibited,  at  first,  some  as- 
tonishment at  the  homeliness  of  the  dwelling ;  then, 
addressing  himself  to  Madame  de  la  Tour,  he  ob- 
served, that  although  public  affairs  drew  his  atten- 
tion too  much  from  the  concerns  of  individuals,  she 
had  many  claims  on  his  good  offices.  "  You  have 
an  aunt  at  Paris,  madam,"  he  added, "  a  woman  of 
quality,  and  immensely  rich,  who  expects  that  you 
will  hasten  to  see  her,  and  who  means  to  bestow 
upon  you  her  whole  fortune."  Madame  de  la  Tour 
replied,  that  the  state  of  her  health  would  not  per- 
mit her  to  undertake  so  long  a  voyage.  "  At  least," 
resumed  Monsieur  de  la  Bourdonnais,  "  you  cannot 


THE    READING    OF    HER   AUNT'S   LETTER. 


119 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  121 

without  injustice,  deprive  this  amiable  young  lady, 
your  daughter,  of  so  noble  an  inheritance.  I  will 
not  conceal  from  you,  that  your  aunt  has.  made  use 
of  her  influence  to  secure  your  daughter  being  sent 
to  her ;  and  that  I  have  received  official  letters,  in 
which  I  am  ordered  to  exert  my  authority,  if  neces- 
sary, to  that  effect  But  as  I  only  wish  to  employ 
my  power  for  the  purpose  of  rendering  the  inhabi- 
tants of  this  country  happy,  I  expect  from  your 
good  sense  the  voluntary  sacrifice  of  a  few  years, 
upon  which  your  daughter's  establishment  in  the 
world,  and  the  welfare  of  your  whole  life  depends. 
Wherefore  do  we  come  to  these  islands?  Is  it 
not  to  acquire  a  fortune?  And  will  it  not  be 
more  agreeable  to  return  and  find  it  in  your  own 
country  ?" 

He  then  took  a  large  bag  of  piastres  from  one  of 
his  slaves,  and  placed  it  upon  the  table.  "This 
sum,"  he  continued,  "  is  allotted  by  your  aunt  to 
defray  the  outlay  necessary  for  the  equipment  of 
the  young  lady  for  her  voyage."  Gently  reproach- 
ing Madame  de  la  Tour  for  not  having  had  recourse 
to  him  in  her  difficulties,  he  extolled  at  the  same 
time  her  noble  fortitude.  Upon  this  Paul  said  to 
the  governor, — "  My  mother  did  apply  to  you,  Sir, 
and  you  received  her  ill." — "  Have  you  another 
child,  madam  ?"  said  Monsieur  de  la  Bourdonnais 
to  Madame  de  la  Tour.  "  No,  Sir,"  she  replied ; 
"  this  is  the  son  of  my  friend  ;  but  he  and  Virginia 
11 


122  PAUL  AND   VIRGINIA. 

are  equally  dear  to  us,  and  we  mutually  consider 
them  both  as  our  own  children."  "  Young  man," 
said  the  governor  to  Paul,  "  when  you  have  acquired 
a  little  more  experience  of  the  world,  you  will  know 
that  it  is  the  misfortune  of  people  in  place  to  be 
deceived,  and  bestow,  in  consequence,  upon  in- 
triguing vice,  that  which  they  would  wish  to  give 
to  modest  merit." 

Monsieur  de  la  Bourdonnais,  at  the  request  of 
Madame  de  la  Tour,  placed  himself  next  to  her  at 
table,  and  breakfasted  after  the  manner  of  the 
Creoles,  upon  coffee,  mixed  with  rice  boiled  in  water. 
He  was  delighted  with  the  order  and  cleanliness 
which  prevailed  in  the  little  cottage,  the  harmony 
of  the  two  interesting  families,  and  the  zeal  of  their 
old  servants.  "Here,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  discern 
only  wooden  furniture ;  but  I  find  serene  counte- 
nances and  hearts  of  gold."  Paul,  enchanted  with 
the  affability  of  the  governor,  said  to  him, — "  I 
wish  to  be  your  friend :  for  you  are  a  good  man." 
Monsieur  de  la  Bourdonnais  received  with  pleasure 
this  insular  compliment,  and,  taking  Paul  by  the 
hand,  assured  him  he  might  rely  upon  his  friendship. 

After  breakfast,  he  took  Madame  de  la  Tour  aside 
and  informed  her  that  an  opportunity  would  soon 
offer  itself  of  sending  her  daughter  to  France,  in  a 
ship  which  was  going  to  sail  in  a  short  time  ;  that 
he  would  put  her  under  the  charge  of  a  lady,  one 
of  the  passengers,  who  was  a  relation  of  his  own  ; 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  123 

and  that  .she  must  not  think  of  renouncing  an  im- 
mense fortune,  on  account  of  the  pain  of  being 
separated  from  her  daughter  for  a  brief  interval. 
"  Your  aunt,"  he  added,  "  cannot  live  more  than 
two  years ;  of  this  I  am  assured  by  her  friends. 
Think  of  it  seriously.  Fortune  does  not  visit  us 
every  day.  Consult  your  friends.  I  am  sure  that 
every  person  of  good  sense  will  be  of  my  opinion." 
She  answered,  "that,  as  she  desired  no  other  hap- 
piness henceforth  in  the  world  than  in  promoting 
that  of  her  daughter,  she  hoped  to  be  allowed  to 
leave  her  departure  for  France  entirely  to  her  own 
inclination." 

Madame  de  la  Tour  was  not  sorry  to  find  an 
opportunity  of  separating  Paul  and  Virginia  for  a 
short  time,  and  provide  by  this  means,  for  their 
mutual  felicity  at  a  future  period.  She  took  her 
daughter  aside,  and  said  to  her, — "  My  dear  child, 
our  servants  are  now  old.  Paul  is  still  very  young, 
Margaret  is  advanced  in  years,  and  I  am  already 
infirm.  If  I  should  die  what  would  become  of  you, 
without  fortune,  in  the  midst  of  these  deserts?  You 
would  then  be  left  alone,  without  any  person  who 
could  afford  you  much  assistance,  and  would  be 
obliged  to  labour  without  ceasing,  as  a  hired  servant, 
in  order  to  support  your  wretched  existence.  This 
idea  overcomes  me  with  sorrow."  Virginia  answer- 
ed,— "  God  has  appointed  us  to  labour,  and  to  bless 
him  every  day.  Up  to  this  time  he  has  never 


124  PAUL  AND 

forsaken  us,  and  he  never  will  forsake  us  in  time  to 
come.  His  providence  watches  most  especially  over 
the  unfortunate.  You  have  told  me  this  very  often, 
my  dear  mother !  I  cannot  resolve  to  leave  you." 
Madame  de  la  Tour  replied,  with  much  emotion,— 
"  I  have  no  other  aim  than  to  render  you  happy, 
and  to  marry  you  one  day  to  Paul,  who  is  not 
really  your  brother.  Remember  then  that  hi» 
fortune  depends  upon  you." 

A  young  girl  who  is  in  love  believes  that  every 
one  else  is  ignorant  of  her  passion ;  she  throws  over 
her  eyes  the  veil  with  which  she  covers  the  feelings 
of  her  heart ;  but  when  it  is  once  lifted  by  a  friendly 
hand,  the  hidden  sorrows  of  her  attachment  escape 
as  through  a  newly-opened  barrier,  and  the  sweet 
outpourings  of  unrestrained  confidence  succeed  to 
her  former  mystery  and  reserve.  Virginia,  deeply 
affected  by  this  new  proof  of  her  mother's  tender- 
ness, related  to  her  the  cruel  struggles  she  had  un- 
dergone, of  which  heaven  alone  had  been  witness ; 
she  saw,  she  said,  the  hand  of  Providence  in  the 
assistance  of  an  affectionate  mother,  who  approved 
of  her  attachment ;  and  would  guide  her  by  her 
counsels ;  and  as  she  was  now  strengthened  by  such 
support,  every  consideration  led  her  to  remain  with 
her  mother,  without  anxiety  for  the  present,  and 
without  apprehension  for  the  future, 

Madame  de  la  Tour,  perceiving  that  this  confiden- 
tial conversation  had  produced  an  effect  altogether 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  125 

different  from  that  which  she  expected,  said, — 
"  My  dear  child,  I  do  not  wish  to  constrain  you ; 
think  over  it  at  leisure,  but  conceal  your  affection 
from  Paul.  It  is  better  not  to  let  a  man  know  that 
the  heart  of  his  mistress  is  gained." 

Virginia  and  her  mother  were  sitting  together  by 
themselves  the  same  evening,  when  a  tall  man, 
dressed  in  a  blue  cassock,  entered  their  cottage.  He 
was  a  missionary  priest  and  the  confessor  of  Madame 
de  la  Tour  and  her  daughter,  who  had  now  been 
sent  to  them  by  the  governor.  "  My  children,"  he 
exclaimed  as  he  entered,  "  God  be  praised !  you  are 
now  rich.  You  can  now  attend  to  the  kind  sugges- 
tions of  your  benevolent  hearts,  and  do  good  to  the 
poor.  I  know  what  Monsieur  de  la  Bourdonnais 
has  said  to  you,  and  what  you  have  said  in  reply. 
Your  health,  dear  madam,  obliges  you  to  remain 
here;  but  you,  young  lady,  are  without  excuse. 
We  must  obey  the  direction  of  Providence  :  and  we 
must  also  obey  our  aged  relations,  even  when  they 
are  unjust.  A  sacrifice  is  required  of  you ;  but  it 
is  the  will  of  God.  Our  Lord  devoted  himself  for 
you ;  and  you  in  imitation  of  his  example,  must 
give  up  something  for  the  welfare  of  your  family. 
Your  voyage  to  France  will  end  happily.  You  will 
surely  consent  to  go,  my  dear  young  lady." 

Virginia,  with  downcast  eyes,  answered,  trembling, 
"  If  it  is  the  command  of  God,  I  will  not  presume 
to  oppose  it.  Let  the  will  of  God  be  done !"  As 
she  uttered  these  words,  she  wept. 


126  PAUL  AND   VIRGINIA. 

The  priest  went  away,  in  order  to  inform  the 
governor  of  the  success  of  his  mission.  In  the 
meantime  Madame  de  la  Tour  sent  Domingo  to  re- 
quest me  to  come  to  her,  that  she  might  consult  me 
respecting  Virginia's  departure.  I  was  not  at  all  of 
opinion  that  she  ought  to  go.  I  consider  it  as  a 
fixed  principle  of  happiness,  that  we  ought  to  prefer 
the  advantages  of  nature  to  those  of  fortune,  and 
never  go  in  search  of  that  at  a  distance,  which  we 
may  find  at  home,— in  our  own  bosoms.  But  what 
could  be  expected  from  my  advice,  in  opposition  to 
the  illusions  of  a  splendid  fortune  ? — or  from  my 
simple  reasoning,  when  in  competition  with  the  pre- 
judices of  the  world,  and  an  authority  held  sacred 
by  Madame  de  la  Tour?  This  lady  indeed  had 
only  consulted  me  out  of  politeness ;  she  had  ceased 
to  deliberate  since  she  had  heard  the  decision  of  her 
confessor.  Margaret  herself,  who,  notwithstanding 
the  advantages  she  expected  for  her  son  from  the 
possession  of  Virginia's  fortune,  had  hitherto  opposed 
her  departure,  made  no  further  objections.  As  for 
Paul,  in  ignorance  of  what  had  been  determined, 
but  alarmed  at  the  secret  conversations  which  Vir- 
ginia had  been  holding  with  her  mother,  he  aban- 
doned himself  to  melancholy.  "  They  are  plotting 
something  against  me,"  cried  he,  "for  they  conceal 
every  thing  from  me." 

A  report  having  in  the  meantime  been  spread  in 
the  island  that  fortune  had  visited  these  rocks, 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  127 

merchants  of  every  description  were  seen  climbing 
their  steep  ascent.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  were 
seen  displayed  in  these  humble  huts  the  richest 
stuffs  of  India ;  the  fine  dimity  of  Gondelore ;  the 
handkerchiefs  of  Pellicate  and  Masulipatan;  the 
plain,  striped,  and  embroidered  muslins  of  Dacca, 
so  beautifully  transparent :  the  delicately  white 
cottons  of  Surat,  and  linens  of  all  colours.  They 
also  brought  with  them  the  gorgeous  silks  of  China, 
satin  damasks,  some  white,  and  others  grass-green 
and  bright  red ;  pink  taffetas,  with  a  profusion  of 
satins  and  gauze  of  Tonquin,  both  plain  and  deco- 
rated with  flowers;  soft  pekins,  downy  as  cloth; 
with  white  and  yellow  nankeens,  and  the  calicoes 
of  Madagascar. 

Madame  de  la  Tour  wished  her  daughter  to  pur- 
chase whatever  she  liked ;  she  only  examined  the 
goods,  and  inquired  the  price,  to  take  care  that  the 
dealers  did  not  cheat  her.  Virginia  made  choice  of 
every  thing  she  thought  would  be  useful  or  agree- 
able to  her  mother,  or  to  Margaret  and  her  son. 
"  This,"  said  she,  "  will  be  wanted  for  furnishing 
the  cottage,  and  that  will  be  very  useful  to  Mary 
and  Domingo."  In  short,  the  bag  of  piastres  was 
almost  emptied  before  she  even  began  to  consider 
her  own  wants;  and  she  was  obliged  to  receive 
back  for  her  own  use  a  share  of  the  presents  which 
she  had  distributed  among  the  family  circle. 

Paul,  overcome  with  sorrow  at  the  sight  of  these 


128  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

gifts  of  fortune,  which  he  felt  were  a  presage  of 
Virginia's  departure,  came  a  few  days  after  to  my 
dwelling.  With  an  air  of  deep  despondency  he 
said  to  me,—"  My  sister  is  going  away ;  she  is 
already  making  preparations  for  her  voyage.  I 
conjure  you  to  come  and  exert  your  influence  over 
her  mother  and  mine,  in  order  to  detain  her  here." 
I  could  not  refuse  the  young  man's  solicitations, 
although  well  convinced  that  my  representations 
would  be  unavailing. 

Virginia  had  ever  appeared  to  me  charming  when 
clad  in  the  coarse  cloth  of  Bengal,  with  a  red  hand- 
kerchief tied  round  her  head:  you  may  therefore 
imagine  how  much  her  beauty  was  increased,  when 
she  was  attired  in  the  graceful  and  elegant  costume 
worn  by  the  ladies  of  this  country !  She  had  on  a 
white  muslin  dress,  lined  with  pink  taffeta.  Her 
somewhat  tall  and  slender  figure  was  shown  to  ad- 
vantage in  her  new  attire,  and  the  simple  arrange- 
ment of  her  hair  accorded  admirably  with  the  form 
of  her  head.  Her  fine  blue  eyes  were  filled  with 
an  expression  of  melancholy ;  and  the  struggles 
of  passion,  with  which  her  heart  was  agitated,  im- 
parted a  flush  to  her  cheek,  and  to  her  voice  a  tone 
of  deep  emotion.  The  contrast  between  her  pensive 
look  and  her  gay  habiliments  rendered  her  more 
interesting  than  ever,  nor  was  it  possible  to  see  or 
hear  her  unmoved.  Paul  became  more  and  more 
melancholy ;  and  at  length  Margaret,  distressed  at 


PAUL  AND   VIRGINIA.  129 

the  situation  of  her  son,  took  him  aside,  and  said 
to  him, — •"  Why,  my  dear  child,  will  you  cherish 
vain  hopes,  which  will  only  render  your  disappoint- 
ment more  bitter  ?  It  is  time  for" me  to  make  known 
to  you  the  secret  of  your  life  and  of  mine.  Made- 
moiselle de  la  Tour  belongs,  by  her  mother's  side, 
to  a  rich  and  noble  family,  while  you  are  but  the 
son  of  a  poor  peasant  girl ;  and  what  is  worse  you 
are  illegitimate," 

Paul,  who  had  never  heard  this  last  expression 
before,  inquired  with  eagerness  its  meaning,  His 
mother  replied,  "  I  was  not  married  to  your  father. 
When  I  was  a  girl,  seduced  by  love,  I  was  guilty 
of  a  weakness  of  which  you  are  the  offspring.  The 
consequence  of  my  fault  is,  that  you  are  deprived 
of  the  protection  of  a  father's  family,  and  by  my 
flight  from  home  you  have  also  lost  that  of  your 
mother's.  Unfortunate  child  !  you  have  no  relation 
in  the  world  but  me !" — and  she  shed  a  flood  of 
tears.  Paul,  pressing  her  in  his  arms,  exclaimed, 
"  Oh,  my  dear  mother !  since  I  have  no  relation  in 
the  world  but  you,  I  will  love  you  all  the  more. 
But  what  a  secret  have  you  just  disclosed  to  me ! 
I  now  see  the  reason  why  Mademoiselle  de  la  Tour 
has  estranged  herself  so  much  from  me  for  the  last 
two  months,  and  why  she  has  determined  to  go  to 
France.  Ah  !  I  perceive  too  well  that  she  despises 
me !" 

The  hour  of  supper  being  arrived,  we  gathered 


130  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

round  the  table ;  but  the  different  sensations  with 
which  we  were  agitated  left  us  little  inclination  to 
eat,  and  the  meal,  if  such  it  may  be  called,  passed 
in  silence.  Virginia  was  the  first  to  rise;  she  went 
out,  and  seated  herself  on  the  very  spot  where  we 
now  are.  Paul  hastened  after  her,  and  sat  down 
by  her  side.  Both  of  them,  for  some  time,  kept  a 
profound  silence.  It  was  one  of  those  delicious 
nights  which  are  so  common  between  the  tropics, 
and  to  the  beauty  of  which  no  pencil  can  do  justice. 
The  moon  appeared  in  the  midst  of  the  firmament, 
surrounded  by  a  curtain  of  clouds,  which  was  gra- 
dually unfolded  by  her  beams.  Her  light  insensibly 
spread  itself  over  the  mountains  of  the  island,  and 
their  distant  peaks  glistened  with  a  silvery  green. 
The  winds  were  perfectly  still.  We  heard  among 
the  woods,  at  the  bottom  of  the  valleys,  and  on  the 
summits  of  the  rocks,  the  piping  cries  and  the  soft 
notes  of  the  birds,  wantoning  in  their  nests,  and 
rejoicing  in  the  brightness  of  the  night  and  the 
serenity  of  the  atmosphere.  The  hum  of  insects 
was  heard  in  the  grass.  The  stars  sparkled  in  the 
heavens,  and  their  lucid  orbs  were  reflected,  in  trem- 
bling sparkles,  from  the  tranquil  bosom  of  the  ocean. 
Virginia's  eye  wrandered  distractedly  over  its  vast 
and  gloomy  horizon,  distinguishable  from  the  shore 
of  the  island  only  by  the  red  fires  in  the  fishing 
boats.  She  perceived  at  the  entrance  of  the  harbour 
a  light  and  a  shadow ;  these  were  the  watchlight 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  131 

and  the  hull  of  the  vessel  in  which  she  was  to  em- 
bark for  Europe,  and  which,  all  ready  for  sea,  lay 
at  anchor,  waiting  for  a  breeze.  Affected  at  this 
sight,  she  turned  away  her  head,  in  order  to  hide 
her  tears  from  Paul. 

Madame  de  la  Tour,  Margaret,  and  I,  were  seat- 
ed at  a  little  distance,  beneath  the  plantain-trees ; 
and,  owing  to  the  stillness  of  the  night,  wre  distinctly 
heard  their  conversation,  which  I  have  not  for- 
gotten. 

Paul  said  to  her, — "  You  are  going  away  from 
us,  they  tell  me,  in  three  days.  You  do  not  fear  then 
to  encounter  the  danger  of  the  sea,  at  the  sight  of 
which  you  are  so  much  terrified  ?"  "  I  must  perform 
my  duty,"  answered  Virginia,  "by  obeying  my 
parent."  "  You  leave  us,"  resumed  Paul,  "  for  a 
distant  relation,  whom  you  have  never  seen." 
"  Alas  !"  cried  Virginia,  "  I  would  have  remained 
here  my  whole  life,  but  my  mother  would  not  have 
it  so.  My  confessor,  too,  told  me  it  was  the  will  of 
God  that  I  should  go,  and  that  life  was  a  scene  of 
trials ! — and  Oh  !  this  is  indeed  a  severe  one." 

"  What !"  exclaimed  Paul,  "}T>u  could  find  so  many 
reasons  for  going,  and  not  one  for  remaining  here  ! 
Ah !  there  is  one  reason  for  your  departure  that 
you  have  not  mentioned.  Riches  have  great  at- 
tractions. You  will  soon  find  in  the  new  world  to 
which  you  are  going,  another,  to  whom  you  will 
give  the  name  of  brother,  which  you  bestow  on  me 


132  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

no  more.  You  will  choose  that  brother  from  amongst 
persons  who  are  worthy  of  you  by  their  birth,  and 
by  a  fortune  which  I  have  not  to  offer.  But  where 
can  you  go  to  be  happier  ?  On  what  shore  will  you 
land,  and  find  it  dearer  to  you  than  the  spot  which 
gave  you  birth  ? — and  where  will  you  form  around 
you  a  society  more  delightful  to  you  than  this,  by 
which  you  are  so  much  beloved  ?  How  will  you 
bear  to  live  without  your  mother's  caresses,  to 
which  you  are  so  much  accustomed  ?  What  will  be- 
come of  her,  already  advanced  in  years,  when  she  no 
longer  sees  you  at  her  side  at  table,  in  the  house, 
in  the  walks,  where  she  used  to  lean  upon  you  ? 
What  will  become  of  my  mother,  who  loves  you 
with  the  same  affection?  What  shall  I  say  to 
comfort  them  when  I  see  them  weeping  for  your 
absence  ?  Cruel  Virginia !  I  say  nothing  to  you  of 
myself;  but  what  will  become  of  me,  when  in  the 
morning  I  shall  no  more  see  you ;  when  the  evening 
will  come,  and  not  reunite  us  ? — when  I  shall  gaze 
on  these  two  palm  trees,  planted  at  our  birth,  and 
so  long  the  witnesses  of  our  mutual  friendship  ?  Ah ! 
since  your  lot  is  changed, — since  you  seek  in  a 
far  country  other  possessions  than  the  fruits  of 
my  labour,  let  me  go  with  you  in  the  vessel  in 
which  you  are  about  to  embark.  I  will  sustain 
your  spirits  in  the  midsts  of  those  tempests 
which  terrify  you  so  much  even  on  shore.  I  will 
lay  my  head  upon  your  bosom :  I  will  warm 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  133 

your  heart  upon  my  own ;  and  in  France,  where 
you  are  going  in  search  of  fortune  and  of  grandeur, 
I  will  wait  upon  you  as  your  slave.  Happy  only  in 
your  happiness,  you  will  find  me,  in  those  palaces 
where  I  shall  see  you  receiving  the  homage  and  ado- 
ration of  all,  rich  and  noble  enough  to  make  you 
the  greatest  of  all  sacrifices,  by  dying  at  your  feet." 

The  violence  of  his  emotions  stopped  his  utter- 
ance, and  we  then  heard  Virginia,  who,  in  a  voice 
broken  by  sobs,  uttered  these  words  : — "  It  is  for 
you  that  I  go, — for  you  whom  I  see  tired  to  death 
every  day  by  the  labour  of  sustaining  two  helpless 
families.  If  I  have  accepted  this  opportunity  of 
becoming  rich,  it  is  only  to  return  a  thousand-fold 
the  good  which  you  have  done  us.  Can  any  fortune 
be  equal  to  your  friendship  ?  Why  do  you  talk 
about  your  birth  ?  Ah !  if  it  were  possible  for  me 
still  to  have  a  brother,  should  I  make  choice  of  any 
other  than  you  ?  Oh,  Paul,  Paul !  you  are  far 
dearer  to  me  than  a  brother !  How  much  has  it 
cost  me  to  repulse  you  from  me  !  Help  me  to  tear 
myself  from  what  I  value  more  than  existence,  till 
Heaven  shall  bless  our  union.  But  I  will  stay  or 
go, — I  will  live  or  die, — dispose  of  me  as  you  will. 
Unhappy  that  I  am !  I  could  have  repelled  your 
caresses ;  but  I  cannot  support  your  affliction." 

At  these  words  Paul  seized  her  in  his  arms,  and, 
holding  her  pressed  close  to  his  bosom,  cried,  in  a 
piercing  tone,  "  I  will  go  with  her, — nothing  shall 
12 


134  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

ever  part  us."  We  all  ran  towards  him ;  and  Ma- 
dame de  la  Tour  said  to  him,  "  My  son,  if  you  go, 
what  will  become  of  us  ?" 

He,  trembling,  repeated  after  her  the  words, — 
"  My  son  ! — my  son  !  You  my  mother !"  cried  he  ; 
"  you,  who  would  separate  the  brother  from  the 
sister !  We  have  both  been  nourished  at  your  bo- 
som ;  we  have  both  been  reared  upon  your  knees  ; 
we  have  learnt  of  you  to  love  another ;  we  have 
said  so  a  thousand  times;  and  now  you  would 
separate  her  from  me ! — you  would  send  her  to 
Europe,  that  inhospitable  country  which  refused 
you  an  asylum,  and  to  relations  by  whom  you 
yourself  were  abandoned.  You  will  tell  me  that 
I  have  no  right  over  .her,  and  that  she  is  not  my 
sister.  She  is  every  thing  to  me ; — my  riches,  my 
birth,  my  family, — -all  that  I  have !  I  know  no 
other.  We  have  had  but  one  roof, — one  cradle, — 
and  we  will  have  but  one  grave  !  If  she  goes,  I 
will  follow  her.  The  governor  will  prevent  me  ! 
Will  he  prevent  me  from  flinging  myself  into  the 
sea  ? — will  he  prevent  me  from  following  her  by 
swimming?  The  sea  cannot  be  more  fatal  to  me 
than  the  land.  Since  I  cannot  live  with  her,  at 
least  I  will  die  before  her  eyes,  far  from  you.  In- 
human mother  ! — woman  without  compassion  ! — 
may  the  ocean,  to  which  you  trust  her,  restore  her 
to  you  no  more !  May  the  waves,  rolling  back  our 
bodies  amid  the  shingles  of  this  beach,  give  you, 


LAST    INTERVIEW    OF    i'AUI,    AND    VIRGINIA. 


135 


PAUL  AND    VIRGINIA.  137 

in  the  loss  of  your  two  children,  an  eternal  subject 
of  remorse !" 

At  these  words,  I  seized  him  in  my  arms,  for 
despair  had  deprived  him  of  reason.  His  eyes 
sparkled  with  fire,  the  perspiration  fell  in  great 
drops  from  his  face ;  his  knees  trembled,  and  I  felt 
his  heart  beat  violently  against  his  burning  bosom. 

Virginia,  alarmed,  said  to  him, — "  Oh,  my  dear 
Paul,  I  call  to  witness  the  pleasures  of  our  early 
age,  your  griefs  and  my  own,  and  every  thing  that 
can  for  ever  bind  two  unfortunate  beings  to  each 
other,  that  if  I  remain  at  home,  I  will  live  but  for 
you ;  that  if  I  go,  I  will  one  day  return  to  be  yours. 
I  call  you  all  to  witness ; — you  who  have  reared 
me  from  my  infancy,  who  dispose  of  my  life,  and 
who  see  my  tears.  I  swear  by  that  Heaven  which 
hears  me,  by  the  sea  which  I  am  going  to  pass, 
by  the  air  I  breathe,  and  which  I  never  sullied  by 
a  falsehood." 

As  the  sun  softens  and  precipitates  an  icy  rock 
from  the  summit  of  one  of  the  Appenines,  so  the 
impetuous  passions  of  the  young  man  were  subdued 
by  the  voice  of  her  he  loved.  He  bent  his  head, 
and  a  torrent  of  tears  fell  from  his  eyes.  His  mo- 
ther, mingling  her  tears  with  his,  held  him  in  her 
arms,  but  was  unable  to  speak.  Madame  de  la 
Tour,  half  distracted,  said  to  me,  "  I  can  bear  this 
no  longer.  My  heart  is  quite  broken.  This  unfor- 
tunate voyage  shall  not  take  place.  Do  take  my 
12* 


138  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

son  home  with  you.  Not  one  of  us  has  had  any 
rest  the  whole  week." 

I  said  to  Paul,  "  My  dear  friend,  your  sister  shall 
remain  here.  To-morrow  we  will  talk  to  the  gover- 
nor about  it ;  leave  your  family  to  take  some  rest, 
and  come  and  pass  the  night  with  me.  It  is  late ;  it 
is  midnight;  the  southern  cross  is  just  above  the 
horizon." 

He  suffered  himself  to  be  led  away  in  silence ; 
and,  after  a  night  of  great  agitation,  he  arose  at 
break  of  day,  and  returned  home. 

But  why  should  I  continue  any  longer  to  you  the 
recital  of  this  history  ?  There  is  but  one  aspect  of 
human  existence  which  we  can  ever  contemplate 
with  pleasure.  Like  the  globe  upon  which  we 
revolve,  the  fleeting  course  of  life  is  but  a  day ; 
and  if  one  part  of  that  day  be  visited  by  light,  the 
other  is  thrown  into  darkness. 

"  My  father,"  I  answered,  "  finish,  I  conjure  you, 
the  history  which  you  have  begun  in  a  manner  so 
interesting.  If  the  images  of  happiness  are  the 
most  pleasing,  those  of  misfortune  are  the  more  in- 
structive. Tell  me  what  became  of  the  unhappy 
young  man." 

The  first  object  beheld  by  Paul  in  his  way  home 
was  the  negro  woman  Mary,  who,  mounted  on  a 
rock,  was  earnestly  looking  towards  the  sea.  As 
soon  as  he  perceived  her,  he  called  to  her  from  a 
distance, — "  Where  is  Virginia  ?"  Mary  turned  her 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  139 

head  towards  her  young  master,  and  began  to  weep. 
Paul,  distracted,  retracing  his  steps,  ran  to  the  har- 
bour. He  was  there  informed,  that  Virginia  had 
embarked  at  the  break  of  day,  and  that  the  vessel 
had  immediately  set  sail,  and  was  now  out  of  sight. 
He  instantly  returned  to  the  plantation,  which  he 
crossed  without  uttering  a  word. 

Quite  perpendicular  as  appears  the  wall  of  rocks 
behind  us,  those  green  platforms  which  separate 
their  summits  are  so  many  stages,  by  means  of 
which  you  may  reach,  through  some  difficult  paths, 
that  cone  of  sloping  and  inaccessible  rocks,  which 
is  called  The  Thumb.  At  the  foot  of  that  cone  is 
an  extended  slope  of  ground,  covered  with  lofty  trees, 
and  so  steep  and  elevated  that  it  looks  like  a  forest 
in  the  air,  surrounded  by  tremendous  precipices. 
The  clouds,  which  are  constantly  attracted  round 
the  summit  of  The  Thumb,  supply  innumerable 
rivulets,  which  fall  to  so  great  a  depth  in  the  valley 
situated  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountain,  that 
from  this  elevated  point  the  sound  of  their  cataracts 
cannot  be  heard.  From  that  spot  you  can  discern 
a  considerable  part  of  the  island,  diversified  by  pre- 
cipices and  mountain  peaks,  and  amongst  others, 
Peter-Booth,  and  the  Three  Breasts,  with  their 
valleys  full  of  woods.  You  also  command  an  ex- 
tensive view  of  the  ocean,  and  can  even  perceive  the 
Isle  of  Bourbon,  forty  leagues  to  the  westward. 
From  the  summit  of  that  stupendous  pile  of  rocks 


140  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

Paul  caught  sight  of  the  vessel  which  was  bearing 
away  Virginia,  and  which  now,  ten  leagues  out  at 
sea,  appeared  like  a  black  spot  in  the  midst  of  the 
ocean.  He  remained  a  great  part  of  the  day  with 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  this  object :  when  it  had  disap- 
peared, he  still  fancied  he  beheld  it ;  and  when,  at 
length,  the  traces  which  clung  to  his  imagination 
were  lost  in  the  mists  of  the  horizon,  he  seated  him- 
self on  that  wild  point,  forever  beaten  by  the  winds, 
which  never  cease  to  agitate  the  tops  of  the  cabbage 
and  gum  trees,  and  the  hoarse  and  moaning  murmurs 
of  which,  similar  to  the  distant  sound  of  organs,  in- 
spire a  profound  melancholy.  On  this  spot  I  found 
him,  his  head  reclined  on  the  rock,  and  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  ground.  I  had  followed  him  from  the 
earliest  dawn,  and,  after  much  importunity,  I  pre- 
vailed on  him  to  descend  from  the  heights,  and 
return  to  his  family.  I  went  home  with  him,  where 
the  first  impulse  of  his  mind,  on  seeing  Madame  de 
la  Tour,  was  to  reproach  her  bitterly  for  having 
deceived  him.  She  told  us  that  a  favourable  wind 
having  sprung  up  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  the  vessel  being  ready  to  sail,  the  governor, 
attended  by  some  of  his  staff  and  the  missionary, 
had  come  with  a  palanquin  to  fetch  her  daughter ; 
and  that,  notwithstanding  Virginia's  objections,  her 
own  tears  and  entreaties,  and  the  lamentations  of 
Margaret,  every  body  exclaiming  all  the  time  that 
it  was  for  the  general  welfare,  they  had  carried  her 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  141 

away  almost  dying.     "  At  least,"  cried  Paul,  "  if  I 
had  bid  her  farewell,  I  should  now  be  more  calm. 
I  would  have  said  to  her, — '  Virginia,  if,  during  the 
time  we  have  lived  together,  one  word  may  have 
escaped   me    which  has  offended   you,  before  you 
leave  me  forever,  tell  me  that  you  forgive  me.'     I 
would  have  said  to  her, — '  Since  I  am  destined  to 
see  you  no  more,  farewell,  my  dear  Virginia,  fare- 
well !  Live  far  from  me,  contented  and  happy !'  " 
When  he  saw  that  his  mother  and  Madame  de  la 
Tour  were  weeping, — "  You  must  now,"  said  he, 
"seek  some  other  hand  to  wipe  away  your  tears;" 
and  then,  rushing  out  of  the  house,  and  groaning 
aloud,  he  wandered  up  and  down  the  plantation. 
He  hovered  in  particular  about  those  spots  which 
had  been  most  endeared  to  Virginia.     He  said  to 
the  goats,  and  their  little  ones,  which  followed  him, 
bleating, — "  What  do  you  want  of  me  ?  You  will 
see  with  me  no  more  her  who  used  to  feed  you  with 
her  own  hand."     He  went  to  the  bower  called  Vir- 
ginia's Resting-place,  and,  as  the  birds  flew  around 
him,  exclaimed,  "  Poor  birds  !  you  will  fly  no  more 
to  meet  her  who  cherished  you !" — and  observing 
Fidele  running  backwards  and  forwards  in  search 
of  her,  he  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  cried, — "  Ah  ! 
you  will  never  find  her  again."    At  length  he  went 
and  seated  himself  upon  a  rock  where  he  had  con- 
versed with  her  the  preceding  evening ;  and  at  the 
sight  of  the  ocean  upon  which  he  had  seen  the 


142  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

vessel  disappear  which  had  borne  her  away,  his 
heart  overflowed  with  anguish,  and  he  wept  bitter1  v. 
We  continually  watched  his  movements,  appre- 
hensive of  some  fatal  consequence  from  the  violent 
agitation  of  his  mind.  His  mother  and  Madame 
de  la  Tour  conjured  him,  in  the  most  tender  man- 
ner, not  to  increase  their  affliction  by  his  despair. 
At  length  the  latter  soothed  his  mind  by  lavishing 
upon  him  epithets  calculated  to  awaken  his  hopes, 
— calling  him  her  son,  her  dear  son,  her  son-in-law, 
whom  she  destined  for  her  daughter.  She  per- 
suaded him  to  return  home,  and  to  take  some  food. 
He  seated  himself  next  to  the  place  which  used  to 
be  occupied  by  the  companion  of  his  childhood; 
and,  as  if  she  had  still  been  present,  he  spoke  to 
her,  and  made  as  though  he  would  offer  her  what- 
ever he  knew  was  most  agreeable  to  her  taste : 
then,  starting  from  this  dream  of  fancy,  he  began 
to  weep.  For  some  days  he  employed  himself  in 
gathering  together  every  thing  which  had  belonged 
to  Virginia,  the  last  nosegays  she  had  worn,  the 
cocoa-shell  from  which  she  used  to  drink ;  and  after 
kissing  a  thousand  times  these  relics  of  his  beloved, 
to  him  the  most  precious  treasures  which  the  world 
contained,  he  hid  them  in  his  bosom.  Amber  does  not 
shed  so  sweet  a  perfume  as  the  veriest  trifles  touch- 
ed by  those  we  love.  At  length,  perceiving  that  the 
indulgence  of  his  grief  increased  that  of  his  mother 
and  Madame  de  la  Tour,  and  that  the  wants  of  the 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  143 

family  demanded  continual  labour,  he  began,  with 
the  assistance  of  Domingo,  to  repair  the  damage 
done  to  the  garden. 

But,  soon  after,  this  young  man,  hitherto  indif- 
ferent as  a  Creole  to  every  thing  that  was  passing 
in  the  world,  begged  of  me  to  teach  him  to  read  and 
write,  in  order  that  he  might  correspond  with  Vir- 
ginia. He  afterwards  wished  to  obtain  a  knowledge  of 
geography,  that  he  might  form  some  idea  of  the  coun- 
try where  she  would  disembark ;  and  of  history,  that 
he  might  know  something  of  the  manners  of  the 
society  in  which  she  would  be  placed.  The  power- 
ful sentiment  of  love,  which  directed  his  present 
studies,  had  already  instructed  him  in  agriculture, 
and  in  the  art  of  laying  out  grounds  with  advantage 
and  beauty.  It  must  be  admitted,  that  to  the  fond 
dreams  of  this  restless  and  ardent  passion,  mankind 
are  indebted  for  most  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  while 
its  disappointments  have  given  birth  to  philosophy, 
which  teaches  us  to  bear  up  under  misfortune.  Love, 
thus,  the  general  link  of  all  beings,  becomes  the 
great  spring  of  society,  by  inciting  us  to  knowledge 
as  well  as  to  pleasure. 

Paul  found  little  satisfaction  in  the  study  of  geo- 
graphy, which,  instead  of  describing  the  natural 
history  of  each  country,  gave  only  a  view  of  its 
political  divisions  and  boundaries.  History,  and 
especially  modern  history,  interested  him  little  more. 
He  there  saw  only  general  and  periodical  evils, 


144  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

the  causes  of  which  he  could  not  discover;  wars 
without  either  motive  or  reason ;  uninteresting  in- 
trigues; with  nations  destitute  of  principle,  and 
princes  void  of  humanity.  To  this  branch  of 
reading  he  preferred  romances,  which,  being  chiefly 
occupied  by  the  feelings  and  concerns  of  men,  some- 
times represented  situations  similar  to  his  own. 
Thus,  no  book  gave  him  so  much  pleasure  as  Tele- 
machus,  from  the  pictures  it  draws  of  pastoral  life, 
and  of  the  passions  which  are  most  natural  to  the 
human  breast.  He  read  aloud  to  his  mother  and 
Madame  de  la  Tour,  those  parts  which  affected  him 
most  sensibly ;  but  sometimes,  touched  by  the  most 
tender  remembrances,  his  emotion  would  choke  his 
utterance,  and  his  eyes  be  filled  with  tears.  He 
fancied  he  had  found  in  Virginia  the  dignity  and 
wisdom  of  Antiope,  united  to  the  misfortunes  and 
the  tenderness  of  Eucharis.  With  very  different 
sensations  he  perused  our  fashionable  novels,  filled 
with  licentious  morals  and  maxims,  and  when  he 
was  informed  that  these  works  drew  a  tolerably 
faithful  picture  of  European  society,  he  trembled, 
and  not  without  some  appearance  of  reason,  lest  Vir- 
ginia should  become  corrupted  by  it,  and  forget  him. 
More  than  a  year  and  a  half,  indeed,  passed  away 
before  Madame  de  la  Tour  received  any  tidings  of 
her  aunt  or  her  daughter.  During  that  period  she 
only  accidently  heard  that  Virginia  had  safely  ar- 
rived in  France.  At  length,  however,  a  vessel 


PAUL  AND    VIRGINIA.  145 

which  stopped  here  in  its  way  to  the  Indies  brought 
a  packet  to  Madame  de  la  Tour,  and  a  letter  written 
by  Virginia's  own  hand.  Although  this  amiable  and 
considerate  girl  had  written  in  a  guarded  manner 
that  she  might  not  wound  her  mother's  feelings,  it 
appeared  evident  enough  that  she  was  unhappy. 
The  letter  painted  so  naturally  her  situation  and 
her  character,  that  I  have  retained  it  almost  word 
for  word. 

"  MY  DEAR  AND  BELOVED  MOTHER, 

"  I  have  already  sent  you  several  letters,  written 
by  my  own  hand,  but  having  received  no  answer,  I 
am  afraid  they  have  not  reached  you.  I  have 
better  hopes  for  this,  from  the  means  I  have  now 
gained  of  sending  you  tidings  of  myself,  and  of 
hearing  from  you. 

"  I  have  shed  many  tears  since  our  separation, 
I  who  never  used  to  weep,  but  for  the  misfortunes 
of  others  !  My  aunt  was  much  astonished,  when, 
having,  upon  my  arrival,  inquired  what  accomplish- 
ments I  possessed,  I  told  her  that  I  could  neither 
read  nor  write.  She  asked  me  what  then  I  had 
learnt,  since  I  came  into  the  world ;  and  when  I 
answered  that  I  had  been  taught  to  take  care  of  the 
household  affairs,  and  to  obey  your  will,  she  told  rne 
that  I  had  received  the  education  of  a  servant.  The 
next  day  she  placed  me  as  a  boarder  in  a  great 
abbey  near  Paris,  where  I  have  masters  of  all  kinds, 
13 


146  PAUL   AND  VIRGINIA. 

who  teach  me,  among  other  things,  history,  geogra- 
phy, grammar,  mathematics,  and  riding  on  horse- 
back. But  I  have  so  little  capacity  for  all  these 
sciences,  that  I  fear  I  shall  make  but  small  progress 
with  my  masters.  I  feel  that  I  am  a  very  poor 
creature,  with  very  little  ability  to  learn  what  they 
teach.  My  aunt's  kindness,  however,  does  not 
decrease.  She  gives  me  new  dresses  every  season ; 
and  she  has  placed  two  waiting  women  with  me, 
who  are  dressed  like  fine  ladies.  She  has  made  me 
take  the  title  of  countess;  but  has  obliged  me  to 
renounce  the  name  of  LA  TOUR,  which  is  as  dear 
to  me  as  it  is  to  you,  from  all  you  have  told  me  of 
the  sufferings  my  father  endured  in  order  to  marry 
you.  She  has  given  me  in  place  of  your  name  that 
of  your  family,  which  is  also  dear  to  me,  because 
it  was  your  name  when  a  girl.  Seeing  myself  in 
so  splendid  a  situation,  I  implored  her  to  let  me 
send  you  something  to  assist  you.  But  how  shall 
I  repeat  her  answer !  Yet  you  have  desired  me 
always  to  tell  you  the  truth.  She  told  me  then 
that  a  little  would  be  of  no  use  to  you,  and  that  a 
great  deal  would  only  encumber  you  in  the  simple 
life  you  led.  As  you  know  I  could  not  write,  I  en- 
deavoured upon  my  arrival,  to  send  you  tidings  of 
myself  by  another  hand ;  but,  finding  no  person 
here  in  whom  I  could  place  confidence,  I  applied 
night  and  day  to  learn  to  read  and  write,  and 
Heaven,  who  saw  my  motive  for  learning,  no  doubt 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  147 

assisted  my  endeavours,  for  I  succeeded  in  both  in 
a  short  time.  I  entrusted  my  first  letters  to  some  of 
the  ladies  here,  who,  I  have  reason  to  think,  carried 
them  to  my  aunt.  This  time  I  have  recourse  to  a 
boarder,  who  is  my  friend.  I  send  you  her  direction, 
by  means  of  which  I  shall  receive  your  answer.  My 
aunt  has  forbid  me  holding  any  correspondence 
whatever,  with  any  one,  lest,  she  says,  it  should 
occasion  an  obstacle  to  the  great  views  she  has  for 
my  advantage.  No  person  is  allowed  to  see  me  at 
the  grate  but  herself,  and  an  old  nobleman,  one  of 
her  friends,  who,  she  says  is  much  pleased  with  me. 
I  am  sure  I  am  not  at  all  so  with  him,  nor  should  1, 
even  if  it  were  possible  for  me  to  be  pleased  with 
any  one  at  present. 

"  I  live  in  all  the  splendour  of  affluence,  and  have 
not  a  sous  at  my  disposal.  They  say  I  might  make 
an  improper  use  of  money.  Even  my  clothes  belong 
to  my  femmes  de  chambre,  who  quarrel  about  them 
before  I  have  left  them  off.  In  the  midst  of  riches 
I  am  poorer  than  when  I  lived  with  you;  for  I  have 
nothing  to  give  away.  When  I  found  that  the 
great  accomplishments  they  taught  me  would  not 
procure  me  the  power  of  doing  the  smallest  good, 
I  had  recourse  to  my  needle,  of  which  happily  you 
had  taught  me  the  use.  I  send  several  pairs  of 
stockings  of  my  own  making  for  you  and  my 
mamma  Margaret,  a  cap  for  Domingo,  and  one  of 
my  red  handkerchiefs  for  Mary.  I  also  send  with 


148  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

this  packet  some  kernels,  and  seeds  of  various  kinds 
of  fruits  which  I  gathered  in  the  abbey  park  during 
my  hours  of  recreaiion.  I  have  also  sent  a  few 
seeds  of  violets,  daisies,  buttercups,  poppies  and 
scabious,  which  I  picked  up  in  the  fields.  There 
are  much  more  beautiful  flowers  in  the  meadows  of 
this  country  than  in  ours,  but  nobody  cares  for  them. 
I  am  sure  that  you  and  my  mamma  Margaret  will 
be  better  pleased  with  this  bag  of  seeds,  than  you 
were  with  the  bag  of  piastres,  which  was  the  cause 
of  our  separation  and  of  my  tears.  It  will  give 
me  great  delight  if  you  should  one  day  see  apple- 
trees  growing  by  the  side  of  our  plantains,  and  elms 
blending  their  foliage  with  that  of  our  cocoa  trees. 
You  will  fancy  yourself  in  Normandy,  which  you 
love  so  much. 

"  You  desired  me  to  relate  to  you  my  joys  and 
my  griefs.  I  have  no  joys  far  from  you.  As  for 
my  griefs,  I  endeavour  to  soothe  them  by  reflecting 
that  I  am  in  the  situation  in  which  it  was  the  will 
of  God  that  you  should  place  me.  But  my  greatest 
affliction  is,  that  no  one  here  speaks  to  me  of  you, 
and  that  I  cannot  speak  of  you  to  any  one.  My 
femmes  de  chambre,  or  rather  those  of  my  aunt,  for 
they  belong  more  to  her  than  to  me,  told  me  the 
other  day,  when  I  wished  to  turn  the  conversation 
upon  the  objects  most  dear  to  me  :  '  Remember, 
mademoiselle,  that  you  are  a  French  woman,  and 
must  forget  that  land  of  savages.'  Ah !  sooner  will 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  149 

I  forget  myself,  than  forget  the  spot  on  which  I  was 
born  and  where  you  dwell !  It  is  this  country  which 
is  to  me  a  land  of  savages,  for  I  live  alone,  having 
no  one  to  whom  I  can  impart  those  feelings  of  ten- 
derness for  you  which  I  shall  bear  with  me  to  the 
grave.  I  am, 

"  My  dearest  and  beloved  mother, 

"  Your  affectionate  and  dutiful  daughter, 

"VlRGINIE   DE   LA   TOUR." 

"  I  recommend  to  your  goodness  Mary  and  Do- 
mingo, who  took  so  much  care  of  my  infancy  j  caress 
Fidele  for  me,  who  found  me  in  the  wood." 

Paul  was  astonished  that  Virginia  had  not  said 
one  word  of  him, — she,  who  had  not  forgotten  even 
the  house-dog.  But  he  was  not  aware  that,  how- 
ever long  a  woman's  letter  may  be,  she  never  fails 
to  leave  her  dearest  sentiments  for  the  end. 

In  a  postscript,  Virginia  particularly  recom- 
mended to  Paul's  attention  two  kinds  of  seed, — 
those  of  the  violet  and  the  scabious.  She  gave 
him  some  instructions  upon  the  natural  characters 
of  these  flowers,  and  the  spots  most  proper  for  their 
cultivation.  "  The  violet,"  she  said,  "  produces  a 
little  flower  of  a  dark  purple  colour,  which  delights 
to  conceal  itself  beneath  the  bushes ;  but  it  is  soon 
discovered  by  its  wide-spreading  perfume."  She 
desired  that  these  seeds  might  be  sown  by  the  bor- 
der of  the  fountain,  at  the  foot  of  her  cocoa-tree. 
13* 


150  PAUL   AND  VIRGINIA. 

"  The  scabious,"  she  added,  "  produces  a  beautiful 
flower  of  a  pale  blue,  and  a  black  ground  spotted 
with  white.  You  might  fancy  it  was  in  mourning ; 
and  for  this  reason  it  is  also  called  the  widow's 
flower.  It  grows  best  in  bleak  spots,  beaten  by 
the  winds."  She  begged  him  to  sow  this  upon  the 
rock  where  she  had  spoken  to  him  at  night  for  the 
last  time,  and  that,  in  remembrance  of  her,  he 
would  henceforth  give  it  the  name  of  the  Rock  of 
Adieus. 

She  had  put  these  seeds  into  a  little  purse,  the 
tissue  of  which  was  exceedingly  simple ;  but  which 
appeared  above  all  price  to  Paul,  when  he  saw  on 
it  a  P  and  a  V  entwined  together,  and  knew  that 
the  beautiful  hair  which  formed  the  cypher  was 
the  hair  of  Virginia. 

The  whole  family  listened  with  tears  to  the  read- 
ing of  the  letter  of  this  amiable  and  virtuous  girl. 
Her  mother  answered  it  in  the  name  of  the  little 
society,  desiring  her  to  remain  or  return  as  she 
thought  proper ;  and  assuring  her,  that  happiness 
had  left  their  dwelling  since  her  departure,  and 
that,  for  herself,  she  was  inconsolable. 

Paul  also  sent  her  a  very  long  letter,  in  which 
he  assured  her  that  he  would  arrange  the  garden 
in  a  manner  agreeable  to  her  taste,  and  mingle  to- 
gether in  it  the  plants  of  Europe  with  those  of 
Africa,  as  she  had  blended  their  initials  together  in 
her  work.  He  sent  her  some  fruit  from  the  cocoa- 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  151 

trees  of  the  fountain,  now  arrived  at  maturity; 
telling  her,  that  he  would  not  add  any  of  the  other 
productions  of  the  island,  that  the  desire  of  seeing 
them  again  might  hasten  her  return.  He  conjured 
her  to  comply  as  soon  as  possible  with  the  ardent 
wishes  of  her  family,  and  above  all,  with  his  own, 
since  he  could  never  hereafter  taste  happiness  away 
from  her. 

Paul  sowed  with  a  careful  hand  the  European 
seeds,  particularly  the  violet  and  the  scabious,  the 
flowers  of  which  seemed  to  bear  some  analogy  to 
the  character  and  present  situation  of  Virginia,  by 
whom  they  had  been  so  especially  recommended  ; 
but  either  they  were  dried  up  in  the  voyage,  or  the 
climate  of  this  part  of  the  world  is  unfavourable  to 
their  growth,  for  a  very  small  number  of  them  even 
came  up,  and  not  one  arrived  at  full  perfection. 

In  the  meantime,  envy,  which  ever  comes  to 
embitter  human  happiness,  particularly  in  the 
French  colonies,  spread  some  reports  in  the  island 
which  gave  Paul  much  uneasiness.  The  passengers 
in  the  vessel  which  brought  Virginia's  letter,  as- 
serted that  she  was  upon  the  point  of  being  mar- 
ried, and  named  the  nobleman  of  the  court  to  whom 
she  was  engaged.  Some  even  went  so  far  as  to 
declare  that  the  union  had  already  taken  place, 
and  that  they  themselves  had  witnessed  the  cere- 
mony. Paul  at  first  despised  the  report,  brought 
by  a  merchant  vessel,  as  he  knew  that  they  often 


152  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

spread  erroneous  intelligence  in  their  passage ;  but 
some  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  island,  with  malig- 
nant pity,  affecting  to  bewail  the  event,  he  was 
soon  led  to  attach  some  degree  of  belief  to  this  cruel 
intelligence.  Besides,  in  some  of  the  novels  he  had 
lately  read,  he  had  seen  that  perfidy  was  treated 
as  a  subject  of  pleasantry ;  and  knowing  that  these 
books  contained  pretty  faithful  representations  of 
European  manners,  he  feared  that  the  heart  of 
Virginia  was  corrupted,  and  had  forgotten  its  former 
engagements.  Thus  his  new  acquirements  had  al- 
ready only  served  to  render  him  more  miserable ; 
and  his  apprehensions  were  much  increased  by  the 
circumstance,  that  though  several  ships  touched 
here  from  Europe,  within  the  six  months  imme- 
diately following  the  arrival  of  her  letter,  not  one 
of  them  brought  any  tidings  of  Virginia. 

This  unfortunate  young  man,  with  a  heart  torn 
by  the  most  cruel  agitation,  often  came  to  visit  me, 
in  the  hope  of  confirming  or  banishing  his  uneasi- 
ness, by  my  experience  of  the  world. 

I  live,  as  I  have  already  told  you,  a  league  and 
a  half  from  this  point,  upon  the  banks  of  a  little 
river  which  glides  along  the  Sloping  Mountain : 
there  I  lead  a  solitary  life,  without  wife,  children, 
or  slaves. 

After  having  enjoyed,  and  lost  the  rare  felicity 
of  living  with  a  congenial  mind,  the  state  of  life 
which  appears  the  least  wretched  is  doubtless  that 


PAUL    AND   VIRGINIA.  153 

of  solitude.  Every  man  who  has  much  cause  of 
complaint  against  his  fellow -creatures  seeks  to  be 
alone.  It  is  also  remarkable  that  all  those  nations 
which  have  been  brought  to  wretchedness  by  their 
opinions,  their  manners,  or  their  forms  of  government, 
have  produced  numerous  classes  of  citizens  alto- 
gether devoted  to  solitude  and  celibacy.  Such  were 
the  Egyptians  in  their  decline,  and  the  Greeks  of 
the  Lower  Empire ;  and  such  in  our  days  are  the 
Indians,  the  Chinese,  the  modern  Greeks,  the  Ita- 
lians, and  the  greater  part  of  the  eastern  and  south- 
ern nations  of  Europe.  Solitude,  by  removing  men 
from  the  miseries  which  follow  in  the  train  of  social 
intercourse,  brings  them  in  some  degree  back  to  the 
unsophisticated  enjoyment  of  nature.  In  the  midst 
of  modern  society,  broken  up  by  innumerable  pre- 
judices, the  mind  is  in  a  constant  turmoil  of  agitation. 
It  is  incessantly  revolving  in  itself  a  thousand  tu- 
multuous and  contradictory  opinions,  by  which  the 
members  of  an  ambitious  and  miserable  circle  seek 
to  raise  themselves  above  each  other.  But  in  soli- 
tude the  soul  lays  aside  the  morbid  illusions  which 
troubled  her,  and  resumes  the  pure  consciousness  of 
herself,  of  nature,  and  of  its  Author,  as  the  muddy 
water  of  a  torrent  which  has  ravaged  the  plains, 
coming  to  rest,  and  diffusing  itself  over  some  low 
grounds  out  of  its  course,  deposits  there  the  slime 
it  has  taken  up,  and,  resuming  its  wonted  trans- 
parency, reflects,  with  its  own  shores,  the  verdure 


154  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

of  the  earth  and  the  light  of  heaven.  Thus  does 
solitude  recruit  the  powers  of  the  body  as  well  as 
those  of  the  mind.  It  is  among  hermits  that  are 
found  the  men  who  carry  human  existence  to  its 
extreme  limits ;  such  are  the  Bramins  of  India.  In 
brief,  I  consider  solitude  so  necessary  to  happiness, 
even  in  the  world  itself,  that  it  appears  to  me  impos- 
sible to  derive  lasting  pleasure  from  any  pursuit 
whatever,  or  to  regulate  our  conduct  by  any  stable 
principle,  if  we  do  not  create  for  ourselves  a  mental 
void,  whence  our  own  views  rarely  emerge,  and 
into  which  the  opinions  of  others  never  enter.  I  do 
not  mean  to  say  that  man  ought  to  live  absolutely 
alone ;  he  is  connected  by  his  necessities  with  all 
mankind ;  his  labours  are  due  to  man :  and  he  owes 
something  too  to  the  rest  of  nature.  But,  as  God 
has  given  to  each  of  us  organs  perfectly  adapted  to 
the  elements  of  the  globe  on  which  we  live, — feet 
for  the  soil,  lungs  for  the  air,  eyes  for  the  light, 
without  the  power  of  changing  the  use  of  any  of 
these  faculties,  he  has  reserved  for  himself,  as  the 
Author  of  life,  that  which  is  its  chief  organ, — the 
heart. 

I  thus  passed  my  days  far  from  mankind,  whom 
I  wished  to  serve,  and  by  whom  I  have  been  per- 
secuted. After  having  travelled  over  many  coun- 
tries of  Europe,  and  some  parts  of  America  and 
Africa,  I  at  length  pitched  my  tent  in  this  thinly- 
peopled  island,  allured  by  its  mild  climate  and  its 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  155 

solitudes.  A  cottage  which  I  built  in  the  woods, 
at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  a  little  field  which  I  cleared 
with  my  own  hands,  a  river  which  glides  before  my 
door,  suffice  for  my  wants  and  for  my  pleasures.  I 
blend  with  these  enjoyments  the  perusal  of  some 
chosen  books,  which  teach  me  to  become  better. 
They  make  that  world,  which  I  have  abandoned, 
still  contribute  something  to  my  happiness.  They 
lay  before  me  pictures  of  those  passions  which 
render  its  inhabitants  so  miserable;  and  in  the  com- 
parison I  am  thus  led  to  make  between  their  lot  and 
my  own,  I  feel  a  kind  of  negative  enjoyment.  Like 
a  man  saved  from  shipwreck,  and  thrown  upon  a 
rock,  I  contemplate,  from  my  solitude,  the  storms 
which  rage  through  the  rest  of  the  world ;  and  my 
repose  seems  more  profound  from  the  distant  sound 
of  the  tempest.  As  men  have  ceased  to  fall  in  my 
way,  I  no  longer  view  them  with  aversion ;  I  only 
pity  them.  If  I  sometimes  fall  in  with  an  unfortu- 
nate being,  I  try  to  help  him  by  my  counsels,  as  a 
passer-by  on  the  brink  of  a  torrent  extends  his  hand 
to  save  a  wretch  from  drowning.  But  I  have  hardly 
ever  found  any  but  the  innocent  attentive  to  my 
voice.  Nature  calls  the  majority  of  men  to  her  in 
vain.  Each  of  them  forms  an  image, of  her  for  him- 
self, and  invests  her  with  his  own  passions.  He 
pursues  during  the  whole  of  his  life  this  vain  phan- 
tom, which  leads  him  astray;  and  he  afterwards 
complains  to  Heaven  of  the  misfortunes  which  he 


156  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

has  thus  created  for  himself.  Among  the  many 
children  of  misfortune  whom  I  have  endeavoured 
to  lead  back  to  the  enjoyments  of  nature,  I  have 
not  found  one  but  was  intoxicated  with  his  own 
miseries.  They  have  listened  to  me  at  first  with 
attention,  in  the  hope  that  I  could  teach  them  how 
to  acquire  glory  or  fortune,  but  when  they  found  that 
I  only  wished  to  instruct  them  how  to  dispense  with 
these  chimeras,  their  attention  has  been  converted 
into  pity,  because  I  did  not  prize  their  miserable 
happiness.  They  blamed  my  solitary  life ;  they 
alleged  that  they  alone  were  useful  to  men,  and  they 
endeavoured  to  draw  me  into  their  vortex.  But  if 
I  communicate  with  all,  I  lay  myself  open  to  none. 
It  is  often  sufficient  for  me  to  serve  as  a  lesson  to 
myself.  In  my  present  tranquillity,  I  pass  in  review 
the  agitating  pursuits  of  my  past  life,  to  which  I 
formerly  attached  so  much  value, — patronage,  for- 
tune, reputation,  pleasure,  and  the  opinions  which  are 
ever  at  strife  over  all  the  earth.  I  compare  the  men 
whom  I  have  seen  disputing  furiously  over  these 
vanities,  and  who  are  no  more,  to  the  tiny  waves 
of  my  rivulet,  which  break  in  foam  against  its  rocky 
bed,  and  disappear,  never  to  return.  As  for  me,  I  suf- 
fer myself  to  float  calmly  down  the  stream  of  time 
to  the  shoreless  ocean  of  futurity ;  while,  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  present  harmony  of  nature, 
I  elevate  my  soul  towards  its  supreme  Author,  and 
hope  for  a  more  happy  lot  in  another  state  of 
existence. 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  157 

Although  you  cannot  descry  from  my  hermitage, 
situated  in  the  midst  of  a  forest,  that  immense 
variety  of  objects  which  this  elevated  spot  presents, 
the  grounds  are  disposed  with  peculiar  heauty,  at 
least  to  one  who,  like  me,  prefers  the  seclusion  of  a 
home  scene  to  great  and  extensive  prospects.  The 
river  which  glides  before  my  door  passes  in  a 
straight  line  across  the  woods,  looking  like  a  long 
canal  shaded  by  all  kinds  of  trees.  Among  them 
are  the  gum  tree,  the  ebony  tree,  and  that  which  is 
here  called  bois  de  pomnre,  with  olive  and  cinna- 
mon-wood trees ;  while  in  some  parts  the  cabbage- 
palm  trees  raise  their  naked  stems  more  than  a 
hundred  feet  high,  their  summits  crowned  with  a 
cluster  of  leaves,  and  towering  above  the  woods 
like  one  forest  piled  upon  another.  Lianas,  of  va- 
rious foliage,  intertwining  themselves  among  the 
trees,  form,  here,  arcades  of  foliage,  there,  long 
canopies  of  verdure.  Most  of  these  trees  shed  aro- 
matic odours  so  powerful,  that  the  garments  of  a 
traveller,  who  has  passed  through  the  forest,  often 
retain  for  hours  the  most  delicious  fragrance.  In 
the  season  when  they  produce  their  lavish  blos- 
soms, they  appear  as  if  half-covered  with  snow. 
Towards  the  end  of  summer,  various  kinds  of  fo- 
reign birds  hasten,  impelled  by  some  inexplicable 
instinct,  from  unknown  regions  on  the  other  side 
of  immense  oceans,  to  feed  upon  the  grain  and 
other  vegetable  productions  of  the  island ;  and  the 


158  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

brilliancy  of  their  plumage  forms  a  striking  con- 
trast to  the  more  sombre  tints  of  the  foliage,  em- 
browned by  the  sun.  Among  these  are  various 
kinds  of  parroquets,  and  the  blue  pigeon,  called 
here  the  pigeon  of  Holland.  Monkeys,  the  domes- 
tic inhabitants  of  our  forests,  sport  upon  the  dark 
branches  of  the  trees,  from  which  they  are  easily 
distinguished  by  their  gray  and  greenish  skin,  and 
their  black  visages.  Some  hang,  suspended  by  the 
tail,  and  swing  themselves  in  air ;  others  leap  from 
branch  to  branch,  bearing  their  young  in  their  arms. 
The  murderous  gun  has  never  affrighted  these 
peaceful  children  of  nature.  You  hear  nothing  but 
sounds  of  joy, — the  warblings  and  unknown  notes 
of  birds  from  the  countries  of  the  south,  repeated 
from  a  distance  by  the  echoes  of  the  forest.  The 
river,  which  pours,  in  foaming  eddies,  over  a  bed 
of  rocks,  through  the  midst  of  the  woods,  reflects 
here  and'  there  upon  its  limpid  waters  their  venera- 
ble masses  of  verdure  and  of  shade,  along  with  the 
sports  of  their  happy  inhabitants.  About  a  thou- 
sand paces  from  thence  it  forms  several  cascades, 
clear  as  crystal  in  their  fall,  but  broken  at  the  bot- 
tom into  frothy  surges.  Innumerable  confused 
sounds  issue  from  these  watery  tumults,  which, 
borne  by  the  winds  across  the  forest,  now  sink  in 
distance,  now  all  at  once  swell  out,  booming  on  the 
ear  like  the  bells  of  a  cathedral.  The  air,  kept 
ever  in  motion  by  the  running  water,  preserves 


INTERIOR    OF    A    FOREST. 


159 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  161 

upon  the  banks  of  the  river,  amid  all  the  summer 
heats,  a  freshness  and  verdure  rarely  found  in  this 
island,  even  on  the  summits  of  the  mountains. 

At  some  distance  from  this  place  is  a  rock,  placed 
far  enough  from  the  cascade  to  prevent  the  ear 
from  being  deafened  with  the  noise  of  its  waters, 
and  sufficiently  near  for  the  enjoyment  of  seeing 
it,  of  feeling  its  coolness,  and  hearing  its  gentle 
murmurs.  Thither,  amidst  the  heats  of  summer, 
Madame  de  la  Tour,  Margaret,  Virginia,  Paul,  and 
myself,  sometimes  repaired,  to  dine  beneath  the 
shadow  of  this  rock.  Virginia,  who  always,  in  her 
most  ordinary  actions,  was  mindful  of  the  good  of 
others,  never  eat  of  any  fruit  in  the  fields  without 
planting  the  seed  or  kernel  in  the  ground.  "  From 
this,"  said  she,  "  trees  will  come,  which  will  yield 
their  fruit  to  some  traveller,  or  at  least  to  some 
bird."  One  day,  having  eaten  of  the  papaw  fruit 
at  the  foot  of  that  rock,  she  planted  the  seeds  on 
the  spot.  Soon  after,  several  papaw  trees  sprang 
up,  among  which  was  one  with  female  blossoms, 
that  is  to  say,  a  fruit-bearing  tree.  This  tree,  at  the 
time  of  Virginia's  departure,  was  scarcely  as  high 
as  her  knee ;  but,  as  it  is  a  plant  of  rapid  growth, 
in  the  course  of  two  years  it  had  gained  the  height 
of  twenty  feet,  and  the  upper  part  of  its  stem  was 
encircled  by  several  rows  of  ripe  fruit.  Paul,  wan- 
dering accidentally  to  the  spot,  was  struck  with 
delight  at  seeing  this  lofty  tree,  which  had  been 
L  14* 


162  PAUL   AND  VIRGINIA. 

planted  by  his  beloved ;  but  the  emotion  was  tran- 
sient, and  instantly  gave  place  to  a  deep  melan- 
choly, at  this  evidence  of  her  long  absence.  The 
objects  which  are  habitually  before  us  do  not  bring 
to  our  minds  an  adequate  idea  of  the  rapidity  of 
life;  they  decline  insensibly  with  ourselves:  but 
it  is  those  we  behold  again,  after  having  for  some 
years  lost  sight  of  them,  that  most  powerfully  im- 
press us  with  a  feeling  of  the  swiftness  with  which 
the  tide  of  life  flows  on.  Paul  was  no  less  over- 
whelmed and  affected  at  the  sight  of  this  great  pa- 
paw  tree,  loaded  with  fruit,  than  is  the  traveller 
when,  after  a  long  absence  from  his  own  country, 
he  finds  his  contemporaries  no  more,  but  their  chil- 
dren, whom  he  left  at  the  breast,  themselves  now 
become  fathers  of  families.  Paul  sometimes  thought 
of  cutting  down  the  tree,  which  recalled  too  sensi- 
bly the  distracting  remembrance  of  Virginia's  pro- 
longed absence.  At  other  times,  contemplating  it 
as  a  monument  of  her  benevolence,  he  kissed  its 
trunk,  and  apostrophized  it  in  terms  of  the  most 
passionate  regret.  Indeed,  I  have  myself  gazed 
upon  it  with  more  emotion  and  more  veneration 
than  upon  the  triumphal  arches  of  Rome.  May 
nature,  which  every  day  destroys  the  monuments 
of  kingly  ambition,  multiply  in  our  forests  those 
which  testify  the  beneficence  of  a  poor  young  girl ! 
At  the  foot  of  this  papaw  tree  I  was  always  sure 
to  meet  with  Paul  when  he  came  into  our  neigh- 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  163 

bourhood.  One  day,  I  found  him  there  absorbed 
in  melancholy  and  a  conversation  took  place  between 
us,  which  I  will  relate  to  you,  if  I  do  not  weary 
you  too  much  by  my  long  digressions;  they  are 
perhaps  pardonable  to  my  age  and  to  my  last  friend- 
ships. I  will  relate  it  to  you  in  the  form  of  a  dia- 
logue, that  you  may  form  some  idea  of  the  natural 
good  sense  of  this  young  man.  You  will  easily 
distinguish  the  speakers,  from  the  character  of  his 
questions  and  of  my  answers. 

Paul. — I  am  very  unhappy.  Mademoiselle  de 
la  Tour  has  now  been  gone  two  years  and  eight 
months,  and  we  have  heard  no  tidings  of  her  for 
eight  months  and  a  half.  She  is  rich,  and  I  am 
poor ;  she  has  forgotten  me.  I  have  a  great  mind 
to  follow  her.  I  wrill  go  to  France ;  I  will  serve 
the  king ;  I  will  make  my  fortune ;  and  then  Made- 
moiselle de  le  Tour's  aunt  will  bestow  her  niece 
upon  me  when  I  shall  have  become  a  great  lord. 

The  Old  Man. — But,  my  dear  friend,  have  not 
you  told  me  that  you  are  not  of  noble  birth  ? 

Paul. — My  mother  has  told  me  so ;  but,  as  for 
myself,  I  know  not  what  noble  birth  means.  I 
never  perceived  that  I  had  less  than  others,  or  that 
others  had  more  than  I. 

The  Old  Man. — Obscure  birth,  in  France,  shuts 
every  door  of  access  to  great  employments;  nor 
can  you  even  be  received  among  any  distinguished 
body  of  men,  if  you  labour  under  this  disadvantage. 


164  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

Paul. — You  have  often  told  me  that  it  was  one 
source  of  the  greatness  of  France  that  her  humblest 
subject  might  attain  the  highest  honours;  and  you 
have  cited  to  me  many  instances  of  celebrated  men 
who,  born  in  a  mean  condition,  had  conferred  honour 
upon  their  country.  It  was  your  wish,  then,  by 
concealing  the  truth  to  stimulate  my  ardour  ? 

The  Old  Man. — Never,  my  son,  would  I  lower 
it.  I  told  you  the  truth  with  regard  to  the  past ; 
but  now,  every  thing  has  undergone  a  great  change. 
Every  thing  in  France  is  now  to  be  obtained  by  in- 
terest alone ;  every  place  and  employment  is  now 
become  as  it  were  the  patrimony  of  a  small  number 
of  families,  or  is  divided  among  public  bodies.  The 
king  is  a  sun,  and  the  nobles  and  great  corporate 
bodies  surround  him  like  so  many  clouds;  it  is 
almost  impossible  for  any  of  his  rays  to  reach  you. 
Formerly,  under  less  exclusive  administrations,  such 
phenomena  have  been  seen.  Then  talents  and 
merit  showed  themselves  every  where,  as  newly 
cleared  lands  are  always  loaded  with  abundance. 
But  great  kings,  who  can  really  form  a  just  esti- 
mate of  men,  and  choose  them  with  judgment,  are 
rare.  The  ordinary  race  of  monarchs  allow  them- 
selves to  be  guided  by  the  nobles  and  people  who 
surround  them. 

Paul. — But  perhaps  I  shall  find  one  of  these 
nobles  to  protect  me. 

The  Old  Man. — To  gain  the  protection  of  the 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  165 

great  you  must  lend  yourself  to  their  ambition,  and 
administer  to  their  pleasures.  You  would  never 
succeed ;  for,  in  addition  to  your  obscure  birth,  you 
have  too  much  integrity. 

Paul. — But  I  will  perform  such  courageous  actions, 
I  will  be  so  faithful  to  my  word,  so  exact  in  the 
performance  of  my  duties,  so  zealous  and  so  constant 
in  my  friendships,  that  I  will  render  myself  worthy 
to  be  adopted  by  some  one  of  them.  In  the  ancient 
histories,  you  have  made  me  read,  I  have  seen  many 
examples  of  such  adoptions. 

The  Old  Man. — Oh,  my  young  friend!  among 
the  Greeks  and  Romans,  even  in  their  decline,  the 
nobles  had  some  respect  for  virtue ;  but  out  of  all 
the  immense  number  of  men,  sprung  from  the  mass 
of  the  people,  in  France,  who  have  signalized  them- 
selves in  every  possible  manner,  I  do  not  recollect 
a  single  instance  of  one  being  adopted  by  any  great 
family.  If  it  were  not  for  our  kings,  virtue,  in  our 
country,  would  be  eternally  condemned  as  plebeian. 
As  I  said  before,  the  monarch  sometimes,  when  he 
perceives  it,  renders  to  it  due  honour ;  but  in  the 
present  day,  the  distinctions  which  should  be  be- 
stowed on  merit  are  generally  to  be  obtained  by 
money  alone. 

Paul. — If  I  cannot  find  a  nobleman  to  adopt  me, 
I  will  seek  to  please  some  public  body.  I  will  es- 
pouse its  interests  and  its  opinions  :  I  will  make 
myself  beloved  by  it. 


166  PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA. 

The  Old  Man. — You  will  act  then  like  other 
men  ? — you  will  renounce  your  conscience  to  obtain 
a  fortune  ? 

Paul. — Oh  no  !  I  will  never  lend  myself  to  any 
thing  but  the  truth. 

The  Old  Man. — Instead  of  making  yourself  be- 
loved, you  would  become  an  object  of  dislike.  Be- 
sides, public  bodies  have  never  taken  much  interest 
in  the  discovery  of  truth.  All  opinions  are  nearly 
alike  to  ambitious  men,  provided  only  that  they 
themselves  can  gain  their  ends. 

Paul. — How  unfortunate  I  am !  Every  thing 
bars  my  progress.  I  am  condemned  to  pass  my 
life  in  ignoble  toil,  far  from  Virginia. 

As  he  said  this  he  sighed  deeply. 

TJie  Old  Man. — Let  God  be  your  patron,  and 
mankind  the  public  body  you  would  serve.  Be 
constantly  attached  to  them  both.  Families,  cor- 
porations, nations  and  kings  have,  all  of  them,  their 
prejudices  and  their  passions ;  it  is  often  necessary 
to  serve  them  by  the  practice  of  vice:  God  and 
mankind  at  large  require  only  the  exercise  of  the 
virtues. 

But  why  do  you  wish  to  be  distinguished  from 
other  men  ?  It  is  hardly  a  natural  sentiment,  for, 
if  all  men  possessed  it,  every  one  would  be  at  con- 
stant strife  with  his  neighbour.  Be  satisfied  with 
fulfilling  your  duty  in  the  station  in  which  Provi- 
dence has  placed  you ;  be  grateful  for  your  lot, 


PAUL    AND    VIRGINIA.  167 

which  permits  you  to  enjoy  the  blessing  of  a  quiet 
conscience,  and  which  does  not  compel  you,  like 
the  great,  to  let  your  happiness  rest  on  the  opinion 
of  the  little,  or,  like  the  little,  to  cringe  to  the 
great,  in  order  to  obtain  the  means  of  existence. 
You  are  now  placed  in  a  country  and  a  condition 
in  which  you  are  not  reduced  to  deceive  or  flatter 
any  one,  or  debase  yourself,  as  the  greater  part  of 
those  who  seek  their  fortune  in  Europe  are  obliged 
to  do ;  in  which  the  exercise  of  no  virtue  is  forbid- 
den you ;  in  which  you  may  be,  with  impunity, 
good,  sincere,  well-informed,  patient,  temperate, 
chaste,  indulgent  to  others'  faults,  pious  and  no 
shaft  of  ridicule  be  aimed  at  you  to  destroy  your 
wisdom,  as  yet  only  in  its  bud.  Heaven  has  given 
you  liberty,  health,  a  good  conscience,  and  friends ; 
kings  themselves,  whose  favour  you  desire,  are  not 
so  happy. 

Paul. — Ah  !  I  only  want  to  have  Virginia  with 
me :  without  her  I  have  nothing, — with  her,  I 
should  possess  all  my  desire.  She  alone  is  to  me 
birth,  glory,  and  fortune.  But,  since  her  relation 
will  only  give  her  to  some  one  with  a  great  name, 
I  will  study.  By  the  aid  of  study  and  of  books, 
learning  and  celebrity  are  to  be  attained.  I  will 
become  a  man  of  science  :  I  will  render  my  know- 
ledge useful  to  the  service  of  my  country,  without 
injuring  any  one,  or  owning  dependence  on  any 
one.  I  will  become  celebrated,  and  my  glory  shall 
be  achieved  only  by  myself. 


168  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

The  Old  Man. — My  son,  talents  are  a  gift  yet 
more  rare  than  either  birth  or  riches,  and  undoubt- 
edly they  are  a  greater  good  than  either,  since  they 
can  never  be  taken  away  from  us,  and  that  they 
obtain  for  us  every  where  public  esteem.  But  they 
may  be  said  to  be  worth  all  that  they  cost  us. 
They  are  seldom  acquired  but  by  every  species  of 
privation,  by  the  possession  of  exquisite  sensibility, 
which  often  produces  inward  unhappiness,  and 
which  exposes  us  without  to  the  malice  and  perse- 
cutions of  our  contemporaries.  The  lawyer  envies 
not,  in  France,  the  glory  of  the  soldier,  nor  does 
the  soldier  envy  that  of  the  naval  officer ;  but  they 
will  all  oppose  you,  and  bar  your  progress  to  dis- 
tinction, because  your  assumption  of  superior  ability 
will  wound  the  self-love  of  them  all.  You  say  that 
you  will  do  good  to  men ;  but  recollect,  that  he  who 
makes  the  earth  produce  a  single  ear  of  corn  more, 
renders  them  a  greater  service  than  he  who  writes 
a  book. 

Paul. — Oh  !  she,  then,  who  planted  this  papaw 
tree,  has  made  a  more  useful  and  more  grateful  pre- 
sent to  the  inhabitants  of  these  forests  than  if  she 
had  given  them  a  whole  library. 

So  saying,  he  threw  his  arms  round  the  tree,  and 
kissed  it  with  transport. 

The  Old  Man.— The  best  of  books,— that  which 
preaches  nothing  but  equality,  brotherly  love,  cha- 
rity, and  peace, — the  Gospel,  has  served  as  a  pre- 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  169 

text,  during  many  centuries,  for  Europeans  to  let 
loose  all  their  fury.  How  many  tyrannies,  both 
public  and  private,  are  still  practised  in  its  name 
on  the  face  of  the  earth  !  After  this,  who  will  dare 
to  flatter  himself  that  any  thing  he  can  write  will 
be  of  service  to  his  fellow  men  ?  Remember  the 
fate  of  most  of  the  philosophers  who  have  preached 
to  them  wisdom.  Homer,  who  clothed  it  in  such 
noble  verse,  asked  for  alms  all  his  life.  Socrates, 
whose  conversation  and  example  gave  such  admi- 
rable lessons  to  the  Athenians,  was  sentenced  by 
them  to  be  poisoned.  His  sublime  disciple,  Plato, 
was  delivered  over  to  slavery  by  the  order  of  the 
very  prince  who  protected  him  ;  and,  before  them, 
Pythagoras,  whose  humanity  extended  even  to  ani- 
mals, was  burned  alive  by  the  Crotoniates.  What 
do  I  say  ? — many  even  of  these  illustrious  names 
have  descended  to  us  disfigured  by  some  traits  of 
satire  by  which  they  became  characterized,  human 
ingratitude  taking  pleasure  in  thus  recognising 
them ;  and  if,  in  the  crowd,  the  glory  of  some 
names  is  come  down  to  us  without  spot  or  blemish, 
we  shall  find  that  they  who  have  borne  them  have 
lived  far  from  the  society  of  their  contemporaries  ; 
like  those  statues  which  are  found  entire  beneath 
the  soil  in  Greece  and  Italy,  and  which,  by  being 
hidden  in  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  have  escaped 
uninjured,  from  the  fury  of  the  barbarians. 

You  see,  then,  that  to  acquire  the  glory  which 
15 


170  PAUL   AND  VIEGINIA. 

a  turbulent  literary  career  can  give  you,  you  must 
not  only  be  virtuous,  but  ready,  if  necessary,  to 
sacrifice  life  itself.  But,  after  all,  do  not  fancy  that 
the  great  in  France  trouble  themselves  about  such 
glory  as  this.  Little  do  they  care  for  literary  men, 
whose  knowledge  brings  them  neither  honours,  nor 
power,  nor  even  admission  at  court.  Persecution, 
it  is  true,  is  rarely  practised  in  this  age,  because  it 
is  habitually  indifferent  to  every  thing  except 
wealth  and  luxury ;  but  knowledge  and  virtue  no 
longer  lead  to  distinction,  since  every  thing  in  the 
state  is  to  be  purchased  with  money.  Formerly, 
men  of  letters  were  certain  of  reward  by  some 
place  in  the  church,  the  magistracy,  or  the  admi- 
nistration ;  now  they  are  considered  good  for  no- 
thing but  to  write  books.  But  this  fruit  of  their 
minds,  little  valued  by  the  world  at  large,  is  still 
worthy  of  its  celestial  origin.  For  these  books  is 
reserved  the  privilege  of  shedding  lustre  on  obscure 
virtue,  of  consoling  the  unhappy,  of  enlightening 
nations,  and  of  telling  the  truth  even  to  kings. 
This  is,  unquestionably,  the  most  august  commission 
with  which  Heaven  can  honour  a  mortal  upon  this 
earth.  Where  is  the  author  who  would  not  be 
consoled  for  the  injustice  or  con  tempt  of  those  who 
are  the  dispensers  of  the  ordinary  gifts  of  fortune, 
when  he  reflects  that  his  work  may  pass  from  age 
to  age,  from  nation  to  nation,  opposing  a  barrier  to 
error  and  to  tyranny ;  and  that,  from  amidst  the 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  171 

obscurity  in  which  he  has  lived,  there  will  shine 
forth  a  glory  which  will  efface  that  of  the  common 
herd  of  monarchs,  the  monuments  of  whose  deeds 
perish  in  oblivion,  notwithstanding  the  flatterers 
who  erect  and  magnify  them? 

Paul. — Ah !  I  am  only  covetous  of  glory  to 
bestow  it  on  Virginia,  and  render  her  dear  to  the 
whole  world.  But  can  you,  who  know  so  much, 
tell  me  whether  we  shall  ever  be  married  ?  I 
should  like  to  be  a  very  learned  man,  if  only  for 
the  sake  of  knowing  what  will  come  to  pass. 

The  Old  Man. — Who  would  live,  my  son,  if  the 
future  were  revealed  to  him  ? — when  a  single  an- 
ticipated misfortune  gives  us  so  much  useless 
uneasiness — when  the  foreknowledge  of  one  certain 
calamity  is  enough  to  embitter  every  day  that  pre- 
cedes it !  It  is  better  not  to  pry  too  curiously,  even 
into  the  things  which  surround  us.  Heaven,  which 
has  given  us  the  power  of  reflection  to  foresee  our 
necessities,  gave  us  also  those  very  necessities  to  set 
Limits  to  its  exercise. 

Paul. — You  tell  me  that  with  money  people  in 
Europe  acquire  dignities  and  honours.  I  will  go, 
then,  to  enrich  myself  in  Bengal,  and  afterwards 
proceed  to  Paris,  and  marry  Virginia.  I  will  em- 
bark at  once. 

Tlie,  Old  Man. — What!  would  you  leave  her 
mother  and  yours? 

Paul. — Why,  you  yourself  have  advised  my  going 
to  the  Indies. 


172  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

The  Old  Man. — Virginia  was  then  here;  but 
you  are  now  the  only  means  of  support  both  of  her 
mother  and  of  your  own. 

Paul. — Virginia  will  assist  them  by  means  of 
her  rfch  relation. 

The  Old  Man. — The  rich  care  little  for  those, 
from  whom  no  honour  is  reflected  upon  themselves 
in  the  world.  Many  of  them  have  relations  much 
more  to  be  pitied  than  Madame  de  la  Tour,  who, 
for  want  of  their  assistance,  sacrifice  their  liberty 
for  bread,  and  pass  their  lives  immured  within  the 
walls  of  a  convent. 

Paul. — Oh,  what  a  country  is  Europe  !  Virginia 
must  come  back  here.  What  need  has  she  of  a 
rich  relation  ?  She  was  so  happy  in  these  huts ; 
she  looked  so  beautiful  and  so  well  dressed  with  a 
red  handkerchief  or  a  few  flowers  around  her  head ! 
Return,  Virginia !  leave  your  sumptuous  mansions 
and  your  grandeur,  and  come  back  to  these  rocks, 
— to  the  shade  of  these  woods  and  of  our  cocoa 
trees.  Alas  !  you  are  perhaps  even  now  unhappy !" 
— and  he  began  to  shed  tears.  "  My  father,"  con- 
tinued he,  "  hide  nothing  from  me ;  if  you  cannot 
tell  me  whether  I  shall  marry  Virginia,  tell  me 
at  least  if  she  loves  me  still,  surrounded  as  she  is 
by  noblemen  who  speak  to  the  king,  and  who  go 
to  see  her. 

The  Old  Man.— Oh,  my  dear  friend !  I  am  sure, 
for  many  reasons,  that  she  loves  you ;  but  above 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  173 

all,  because  she  is  virtuous.     At  these  words  he 
threw  himself  on  my  neck  in  a  transport  of  joy. 

Paid. — But  do  you  think  that  the  women  of 
Europe  are  false,  as  they  are  represented  in  the 
comedies  and  books  which  you  have  lent  me  ? 

The  Old  Man. — Women  are  false  in  those  coun- 
tries where  men  are  tyrants.  Violence  always 
engenders  a  disposition  to  deceive. 

Paul. — In  what  way  can  men  tyrannize  over 
women  ? 

The  Old  Man. — In  giving  them  in  marriage 
without  consulting  their  inclinations; — in  uniting 
a  young  girl  to  an  old  man,  or  a  woman  of  sensi- 
bility to  a  frigid  and  indifferent  husband. 

Paid. — Why  not  join  together  those  who  are 
suited  to  each  other, — the  young  to  the  young,  and 
lovers  to  those  they  love  ? 

The  Old  Man. — Because  few  young  men  in 
France  have  property  enough  to  support  them  when 
they  are  married,  and  cannot  acquire  it  till  the 
greater  part  of  their  life  is  passed.  While  young, 
they  seduce  the  wives  of  others,  and  when  they 
are  old,  they  cannot  secure  the  affections  of  their 
own.  At  first,  they  themselves  are  deceivers  :  and 
afterwards,  they  are  deceived  in  their  turn.  This 
is  one  of  the  reactions  of  that  eternal  justice,  by 
which  the  world  is  governed ;  an  excess  on  one 
side  is  sure  to  be  balanced  by  one  on  the  other. 
Thus,  the  greater  part  of  Europeans  pass  their  lives 


174  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

in  this  twofold  irregularity,  which  increases  every 
where  in  the  same  proportion  that  wealth  is  ac- 
cumulated in  the  hands  of  a  few  individuals.  So- 
ciety is  like  a  garden,  where  shrubs  cannot  grow 
if  they  are  overshadowed  by  lofty  trees ;  but  there 
is  this  wide  difference  between  them, — that  the 
beauty  of  a  garden  may  result  from  the  admixture 
of  a  small  number  of  forest  trees,  while  the  pros- 
perity of  a  state  depends  on  the  multitude  and 
equality  of  its  citizens,  and  not  on  a  small  num- 
ber of  very  rich  men. 

Paul. — But  where  is  the  necessity  of  being  rich 
in  order  to  marry  ? 

The  Old  Man. — In  order  to  pass  through  life  in 
abundance,  without  being  obliged  to  work. 

Paul. — But  why  not  work  ?  I  am  sure  I  work 
hard  enough. 

The  Old  Man. — In  Europe,  working  with  your 
hands  is  considered  a  degradation ;  it  is  compared 
to  the  labour  performed  by  a  machine.  The  occu- 
pation of  cultivating  the  earth  is  the  most  despised 
of  all.  Even  an  artisan  is  held  in  more  estimation 
than  a  peasant. 

Paul. — What!  do  you  mean  to  say  that  the  art 
which  furnishes  food  for  mankind  is  despised  in 
Europe?  I  hardly  understand  you. 

T/ie  Old  Man. — Oh  !  it  is  impossible  for  a  person 
educated  according  to  nature  to  form  an  idea  of  the 
depraved  state  of  society.  It  is  easy  to  form  a 


PAUL  AND   VIRGINIA.  175 

precise  notion  of  order,  but  not  of  disorder.  Beauty, 
virtue,  happiness,  have  all  their  denned  proportions; 
deformity,  vice,  and  misery  have  none. 

Paul. — The  rich  then  are  always  very  happy! 
They  meet  with  no  obstacles  to  the  fulfilment  of 
their  wishes,  and  they  can  lavish  happiness  on 
those  whom  they  love. 

The  Old  Man.— Far  from  it,  my  son  !  They 
are,  for  the  most  part  satiated  with  pleasure,  for 
this  very  reason, — that  it  costs  them  no  trouble. 
Have  you  never  yourself  experienced  how  much 
the  pleasure  of  repose  is  increased  by  fatigue ;  that 
of  eating,  by  hunger ;  or  that  of  drinking,  by  thirst  ? 
The  pleasure  also  of  loving  and  being  beloved  is 
only  to  be  acquired  by  innumerable  privations  and 
sacrifices.  Wealth,  by  anticipating  all  their  neces- 
sities, deprives  its  possessors  of  all  these  pleasures. 
To  this  ennui,  consequent  upon  satiety,  may  also  be 
added  the  pride  which  springs  from  their  opulence, 
and  which  is  wounded  by  the  most  trifling  privation, 
when  the  greatest  enjoyments  have  ceased  to  charm. 
The  perfume  of  a  thousand  roses  gives  pleasure  but 
for  a  moment ;  but  the  pain  occasioned  by  a  single 
thorn  endures  long  after  the  infliction  of  the  wound. 
A  single  evil  in  the  midst  of  their  pleasures  is  to 
the  rich  like  a  thorn  among  flowers ;  to  the  poor, 
on  the  contrary,  one  pleasure  amidst  all  their 
troubles  is  a  flower  among  a  wilderness  of  thorns; 
they  have  a  most  lively  enjoyment  of  it.  The 


176  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

effect  of  every  thing  is  increased  by  contrast ;  na- 
ture has  balanced  all  things.  Which  condition, 
after  all,  do  you  consider  preferable, — to  have 
scarcely  any  thing  to  hope,  and  every  thing  to  fear, 
or  to  have  every  thing  to  hope  and  nothing  to 
fear  ?  The  former  condition  is  that  of  the  rich,  the 
latter,  that  of  the  poor.  But  either  of  these  ex- 
tremes is  with  difficulty  supported  by  man,  whose 
happiness  consists  in  a  middle  station  of  life,  in 
union  with  virtue. 

Paul. — What  do  you  understand  by  virtue  ? 

The  Old  Man. — To  you,  my  son,  who  support 
your  family  by  your  labour,  it  need  hardly  be  de- 
fined. Virtue  consists  in  endeavouring  to  do  all  the 
good  we  can  to  others,  with  an  ultimate  intention 
of  pleasing  God  alone. 

Paul. — Oh !  how  virtuous,  then,  is  Virginia ! 
Virtue  led  her  to  seek  for  riches,  that  she  might 
practise  benevolence.  Virtue  induced  her  to  quit 
this  island,  and  virtue  will  bring  her  back  to  it. 

The  idea  of  her  speedy  return  firing  the  imagina- 
tion of  this  young  man,  all  his  anxieties  suddenly 
vanished.  Virginia,  he  was  persuaded,  had  not 
written,  because  she  would  soon  arrive.  It  took 
so  little  time  to  come  from  Europe  with  a  fair  wind ! 
Then  he  enumerated  the  vessels  which  had  made 
this  passage  of  four  thousand  five  hundred  leagues 
in  less  than  three  months ;  and  perhaps  the  vessel 
in  which  Virginia  had  embarked  might  not  be  more 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  177 

than  two.  Ship-builders  were  now  so  ingenious, 
and  sailors  were  so  expert !  He  then  talked  to  me 
of  the  arrangements  he  intended  to  make  for  her 
reception,  of  the  new  house  he  would  build  for  her, 
and  of  the  pleasures  and  surprises  which  he  would 
contrive  for  her  every  day,  when  she  was  his  wife. 
His  wife  !  The  idea  filled  him  with  ecstasy.  "  At 
least,  my  dear  father,"  said  he  "  you  shall  then  do 
no  more  work  than  you  please.  As  Virginia  will 
be  rich,  we  shall  have  plenty  of  negroes,  and  they 
shall  work  for  you.  You  shall  always  live  with  us, 
and  have  no  other  care  than  to  amuse  yourself  and 
be  happy ;" — and,  his  heart  throbbing  with  joy,  he 
flew  to  communicate  these  exquisite  anticipations 
to  his  family. 

In  a  short  time,  however,  these  enchanting  hopes 
were  succeeded  by  the  most  cruel  apprehensions. 
It  is  always  the  effect  of  violent  passions  to  throw 
the  soul  into  opposite  extremes.  Paul  returned  the 
next  day  to  my  dwelling,  overwhelmed  with  melan- 
choly, and  said  to  me, — "  I  hear  nothing  from  Vir- 
ginia. Had  she  left  Europe  she  would  have  written 
me  wrord  of  her  departure.  Ah  !  the  reports  which 
I  have  heard  concerning  her  are  but  too  well 
founded.  Her  aunt  has  married  her  to  some  great 
lord.  She,  like  others,  has  been  undone  by  the  love 
of  riches.  In  those  books  which  paint  women  so 
well,  virtue  is  treated  but  as  a  subject  of  romance. 
If  Virginia  had  been  virtuous,  she  would  never  have 


178  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

forsaken  her  mother  and  me.  I  do  nothing  but 
think  of  her,  and  she  has  forgotten  me.  I  am 
wretched,  and  she  is  diverting  herself.  The  thought 
distracts  me;  I  cannot  bear  myself!  Would  to 
Heaven  that  war  were  declared  in  India !  I  would 
go  there  and  die." 

"  My  son,"  I  answered,  "  that  courage  which 
prompts  us  on  to  court  death  is  but  the  courage  of 
a  moment,  and  is  often  excited  only  by  the  vain  ap- 
plause of  men,  or  by  the  hopes  of  posthumous  renown. 
There  is  another  description  of  courage,  rarer  and 
more  necessary,  which  enables  us  to  support,  with- 
out witness  and  without  applause,  the  vexations  of 
life  ;  this  virtue  is  patience.  Relying  for  support, 
not  upon  the  opinions  of  others,  or  the  impulse  of 
the  passions,  but  upon  the  will  of  God,  patience  is 
the  courage  of  virtue." 

"  Ah  !"  cried  he,  "  I  am  then  without  virtue  ! 
Every  thing  overwhelms  me  and  drives  me  to 
despair." — "  Equal,  constant,  and  invariable  virtue," 
I  replied,  "  belongs  not  to  man.  In  the  midst  of 
the  many  passions  which  agitate  us,  our  reason  is 
disordered  and  obscured :  but  there  is  an  ever- 
burning lamp,  at  which  we  can  rekindle  its  flame  ; 
and  that  is,  literature. 

"  Literature,  my  dear  son,  is  the  gift  of  Heaven,  a 
ray  of  that  wisdom  by  which  the  universe  is  governed, 
and  which  man,  inspired  by  a  celestial  intelligence, 
has  drawn  down  to  earth.  Like  the  rays  of  the 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  179 

sun,  it  enlightens  us,  it  rejoices  us,  it  warms  us 
with  a  heavenly  flame,  and  seems,  in  some  sort, 
like  the  element  of  fire,  to  bend  all  nature  to  our 
use.  By  its  means  we  are  enabled  to  bring  around 
us  all  things,  all  places,  all  men,  and  all  times. 
It  assists  us  to  regulate  our  manners  and  our  life. 
By  its  aid,  too,  our  passions  are  calmed,  vice  is  sup- 
pressed, and  virtue  encouraged  by  the  memorable 
examples  of  great  and  good  men  which  it  has 
handed  down  to  us,  and  whose  time-honoured  ima- 
ges it  ever  brings  before  our  eyes.  Literature  is  a 
daughter  of  Heaven  who  has  descended  upon  earth 
to  soften  and  to  charm  away  all  the  evils  of  the 
human  race.  The  greatest  writers  have  ever  ap- 
peared in  the  worst  times, — in  times  in  which 
society  can  hardly  be  held  together, — the  times  of 
barbarism  and  every  species  of  depravity.  My  son, 
literature  has  consoled  an  infinite  number  of  men 
more  unhappy  than  yourself:  Xenophon,  banished 
from  his  country  after  having  saved  to  her  ten 
thousand  of  her  sons ;  Scipio  Africanus,  wearied  to 
death  by  the  calumnies  of  the  Komans ;  Lucullus, 
tormented  by  their  cabals ;  and  Catinat,  by  the  in- 
gratitude of  a  court.  The  Greeks,  with  their  never- 
failing  ingenuity,  assigned  to  each  of  the  Muses  a 
portion  of  the  great  circle  of  human  intelligence  for 
her  especial  superintendence;  wre  ought  in  the  same 
manner,  to  give  up  to  them  the  regulation  of  our 
passions,  to  bring  them  under  proper  restraint. 


180  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

Literature  in  this  imaginative  guise,  would  thus 
fulfil,  in  relation  to  the  powers  of  the  soul,  the  same 
functions  as  the  Hours,  who  yoked  and  conducted 
the  chariot  of  the  Sun. 

"Have  recourse  to  your  books,  then,  my  son.  The 
wise  men  who  have  written  before  our  days  are 
travellers  who  have  preceded  us  in  the  paths  of 
misfortune,  and  who  stretch  out  a  friendly  hand 
towards  us,  and  invite  us  to  join  their  society,  when 
we  are  abandoned  by  every  thing  else.  A  good 
book  is  a  good  friend." 

"  Ah  !"  cried  Paul,  "  I  stood  in  no  need  of  books 
when  Virginia  was  here,  and  she  had  studied  as 
little  as  myself;  but  when  she  looked  at  me,  and 
called  me  her  friend,  I  could  not  feel  unhappy." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  said  I,  "  there  is  no  friend  so 
agreeable  as  a  mistress  by  whom  we  are  beloved. 
There  is,  moreover,  in  woman  a  liveliness  and 
gaiety,  which  powerfully  tend  to  dissipate  the 
melancholy  feelings  of  a  man ;  her  presence  drives 
away  the  dark  phantoms  of  imagination  produced 
by  over-reflection.  Upon  her  countenance  sit  soft 
attraction  and  tender  confidence.  What  joy  is  not 
heightened  when  it  is  shared  by  her  ?  What  brow 
is  not  unbent  by  her  smiles?  What  anger  can  resist 
her  tears  ?  Virginia  will  return  with  more  philoso- 
phy than  yoii,  and  will  be  quite  surprised  to  find 
the  garden  so  unfinished ; — she  who  could  think  of 
its  embellishments  in  spite  of  all  the  persecutions  of 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  181 

her  aunt,  and  when  far  from  her  mother  and  from 
you." 

The  idea  of  Virginia's  speedy  return  reanimated 
the  drooping  spirits  of  her  lover,  and  he  resumed 
his  rural  occupations,  happy  amidst  his  toils,  in  the 
reflection  that  they  would  soon  find  a  termination 
so  dear  to  the  wishes  of  his  heart. 

One  morning,  at  break  of  day,  (it  was  the  24th 
of  December,  1744,)  Paul,  when  he  arose,  perceived 
a  white  flag  hoisted  upon  the  Mountain  of  Disco- 
very. This  flag  he  knew  to  be  the  signal  of  a 
vessel  descried  at  sea.  He  instantly  flew  to  the 
town  to  learn  if  this  vessel  brought  any  tidings  of 
Virginia,  and  waited  there  till  the  return  of  the 
pilot,  who  was  gone,  according  to  custom,  to  board 
the  ship.  The  pilot  did  not  return  till  the  evening, 
when  he  brought  the  governor  information  that  the 
signalled  vessel  was  .the  Saint-Geran,  of  seven 
hundred  tons  burthen,  and  commanded  by  a  cap- 
tain of  the  name  of  Aubin ;  that  she  was  now  four 
leagues  out  at  sea,  but  would  probably  anchor  at 
Port  Louis  the  following  afternoon,  if  the  wind  be- 
came fair  :  at  present  there  was  a  calm.  The  pilot 
then  handed  to  the  governor  a  number  of  letters 
which  the  Saint-Geran  had  brought  from  France, 
among  which  was  one  addressed  to  Madame  de  la 
Tour,  in  the  hand-writing  of  Virginia.  Paul  seized 
upon  the  letter,  kissed  it  with  transport,  and  placing 
it  in  his  bosom,  flew  to  the  plantation.  No  sooner 
16 


182  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

did  he  perceive  from  a  distance  the  family,  who 
were  awaiting  his  return  upon  the  rock  of  Adieus, 
than  he  waved  the  letter  aloft  in  the  air,  without 
being  able  to  utter  a  word.  .  No  sooner  was  the  seal 
broken,  than  they  all  crowded  round  Madame  de  la 
Tour,  to  hear  the  letter  read.  Virginia  informed 
her  mother  that  she  had  experienced  much  ill- 
usage  from  her  aunt,  who,  after  having  in  vain 
urged  her  to  a  marriage  against  her  inclination, 
had  disinherited  her,  and  had  sent  her  back  at  a 
time  when  she  would  probably  reach  the  Mauritius 
during  the  hurricane  season.  In  vain,  she  added, 
had  she  endeavoured  to  soften  her  aunt,  by  repre- 
senting what  she  owed  to  her  mother,  and  to  her 
early  habits ;  she  was  treated  as  a  romantic  girl, 
wThose  head  had  been  turned  by  novels.  She  could 
now  only  think  of  the  joy  of  again  seeing  and 
embracing  her  beloved  family,  and  would  have 
gratified  her  ardent  desire  at  once,  by  landing  in 
the  pilot's  boat,  if  the  captain  had  allowed  her :  but 
that  he  had  objected,  on  account  of  the  distance, 
and  of  a  heavy  swell,  which,  notwithstanding  the 
calm,  reigned  in  the  open  sea. 

As  soon  as  the  letter  was  finished,  the  whole  of 
the  family,  transported  with  joy,  repeatedly  ex- 
claimed, "  Virginia  is  arrived  !"  and  mistresses  and 
servants  embraced  each  other.  Madame  de  la  Tour 
said  to  Paul, — "  My  son,  go  and  inform  our  neigh- 
bour of  Virginia's  arrival."  Domingo  immediately 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  183 

lighted  a  torch  of  bois  de  ronde,  and  he  and  Paul 
bent  their  way  towards  my  dwelling. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  at  night,  and  I  was  just 
going  to  extinguish  my  lamp,  and  retire  to  rest, 
when  I  perceived,  through  the  palisades  round  my 
cottage,  a  light  in  the  woods.  Soon  after,  I  heard 
the  voice  of  Paul  calling  me.  I  instantly  arose, 
and  had  hardly  dressed  myself,  when  Paul,  almost 
beside  himself,  and  panting  for  breath,  sprang  on 
my  neck,  crying, — "  Come  along,  come  along.  Vir- 
ginia is  arrived.  Let  us  go  to  the  port ;  the  vessel 
will  anchor  at  break  of  day." 

Scarcely  had  he  uttered  the  words,  when  we  set 
off.  As  we  were  passing  through  the  woods  of  the 
Sloping  Mountain,  and  were  already  on  the  road 
which  leads  from  the  Shaddock  Grove  to  the  port, 
I  heard  some  one  walking  behind  us.  It  proved  to 
be  a  negro,  and  he  was  advancing  with  hasty  steps. 
When  he  had  reached  us,  I  asked  him  whence  he 
came,  and  whither  he  was  going  with  such  expedi- 
tion. He  answered,  "I  come  from  that  part  of  the 
island  called  Golden  Dust ;  and  am  sent  to  the  port, 
to  inform  the  governor  that  a  ship  from  France 
has  anchored  under  the  Isle  of  Amber.  She  is 
firing  guns  of  distress,  for  the  sea  is  very  rough." 
Having  said  this,  the  man  left  us,  and  pursued  his 
journey  without  any  further  delay. 

I  then  said  to  Paul, — "  Let  us  go  towards  the 
quarter  of  the  Golden  Dust,  and  meet  Virginia 


184  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

there.  It  is  not  more  than  three  leagues  from 
hence."  We  accordingly  bent  our  course  towards 
the  northern  part  of  the  island.  The  heat  was 
suffocating.  The  moon  had  risen,  and  was  sur- 
rounded by  three  large  black  circles.  A  frightful 
darkness  shrouded  the  sky ;  but  the  frequent 
flashes  of  lightning  discovered  to  us  long  rows  of 
thick  and  gloomy  clouds,  hanging  very  low,  and 
heaped  together  over  the  centre  of  the  island, 
being  driven  in  with  great  rapidity  from  the  ocean, 
although  not  a  breath  of  air  was  perceptible  upon 
the  land.  As  we  walked  along,  we  thought  we 
heard  peals  of  thunder;  but,  on  listening  more 
attentively,  we  perceived  that  it  was  the  sound  of 
cannon  at  a  distance,  repeated  by  the  echoes.  These 
ominous  sounds,  joined  to  the  tempestuous  aspect 
of  the  heavens,  made  me  shudder.  I  had  little 
doubt  of  their  being  signals  of  distress  from  a  ship 
in  danger.  In  about  half  an  hour  the  firing  ceased, 
and  I  found  the  silence  still  more  appalling  than 
the  dismal  sounds  which  had  preceded  it. 

We  hastened  on  without  uttering  a  word,  or 
daring  to  communicate  to  each  other  our  mutual 
apprehensions.  At  midnight,  by  great  exertion, 
we  arrived  at  the  sea  shore,  in  that  part  of  the 
island  called  Golden  Dust.  The  billows  were 
breaking  against  the  beach  with  a  horrible  noise, 
covering  the  rocks  and  the  strand  with  foam  of  a 
dazzling  whiteness,  blended  with  sparks  of  fire. 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  185 

By  these  phosphoric  gleams  we  distinguished,  not- 
withstanding the  darkness,  a  number  of  fishing 
canoes,  drawn  up  high  upon  the  beach. 

At  the  entrance  of  a  wood,  a  short  distance  from 
us,  we  saw  a  fire,  round  which  a  party  of  the  in- 
habitants were  assembled.  We  repaired  thither, 
in  order  to  rest  ourselves  till  the  morning.  While 
we  were  seated  near  this  fire,  one  of  the  standers- 
by  related,  that  late  in  the  afternoon  he  had  seen 
a  vessel  in  the  open  sea,  driven  towards  the  island 
by  the  currents ;  that  the  night  had  hidden  it  from 
his  view ;  and  that  two  hours  after  sunset  he  had 
heard  the  firing  of  signal  guns  of  distress,  but  that 
the  surf  was  so  high,  that  it  was  impossible  to 
launch  a  boat  to  go  off  to  her ;  that  a  short  time 
after,  he  thought  he  perceived  the  glimmering  of 
the  watch-lights  on  board  the  vessel,  which,  he 
feared,  by  its  having  approached  so  near  the  coast, 
had  steered  between  the  main  land  and  the  little 
island  of  Amber,  mistaking  the  latter  for  the  Point  of 
Endeavour,  near  which  vessels  pass  in  order  to  gain 
Port  Louis  j  and  that,  if  this  were  the  case,  which, 
however,  he  would  not  take  upon  himself  to  be  cer- 
tain of,  the  ship,  he  thought,  was  in  very  great  dan- 
ger. Another  islander  then  informed  us,  that  he  had 
frequently  crossed  the  channel  which  separates  the 
isle  of  Ainher  from  the  coast,  and  had  sounded  it  j 
that  the  anchorage  was  very  good,  and  that  the 
ship  would  there  lie  as  safely  as  in  the  best  har- 
16*  ' 


186  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

hour.  "  I  would  stake  all  I  am  worth  upon  it," 
said  he,  "  and  if  I  were  on  board,  I  should  sleep  as 
sound  as  on  shore."  A  third  bystander  declared 
that  it  was  impossible  for  the  ship  to  enter  that 
channel,  which  was  scarcely  navigable  for  a  boat. 
He  was  certain,  he  said,  that  he  had  seen*  the  ves- 
sel at  anchor  beyond  the  isle  of  Amber;  so  that, 
if  the  wind  arose  in  the  morning,  she  could  either 
put  to  sea,  or  gain  the  harbour.  Other  inhabitants 
gave  different  opinions  upon  this  subject,  which 
they  continued  to  discuss  in  the  usual  desultory 
manner  of  the  indolent  Creoles.  Paul  and  I  ob- 
served a  profound  silence.  We  remained  on  this 
spot  till  break  of  day,  but  the  weather  was  too 
hazy  to  admit  of  our  distinguishing  any  object  at 
sea,  every  thing  being  covered  with  fog.  All  we 
could  descry  to  seaward  was  a  dark  cloud,  which 
they  told  us  was  the  isle  of  Amber,  at  the  distance 
of  a  quarter  of  a  league  from  the  coast.  On  this 
gloomy  day  we  could  only  discern  the  point  of  land 
on  which  we  were  standing,  and  the  peaks  of  some 
inland  mountains,  which  started  out  occasionally 
from  the  midst  of  the  clouds  that  hung  around 
them. 

At  about  seven  in  the  morning  we  heard  the 
sound  of  drums  in  the  woods :  it  announced  the 
approach  of  the  governor,  Monsieur  de  la  Bour- 
donnais,  who  soon  after  arrived  on  horseback,  at 
the  head  of  a  detachment  of  soldiers  armed  with 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  187 

muskets,  and  a  crowd  of  islanders  and  negroes. 
He  drew  up  his  soldiers  upon  the  beach,  and  or- 
dered them  to  make  a  general  discharge.  This 
was  no  sooner  done,  than  we  perceived  a  glimmer- 
ing light  upon  the  water  which  was  instantly  fol- 
lowed by  the  report  of  a  cannon.  We  judged  that 
the  ship  was  at  no  great  distance  and  all  ran  towards 
that  part  whence  the  light  and  sound  proceeded. 
We  now  discerned  through  the  fog  the  hull  and 
yards  of  a  large  vessel.  We  were  so  near  to  her, 
that  notwithstanding  the  tumult  of  the  waves,  we 
could  distinctly  hear  the  whistle  of  the  boatswain, 
and  the  shouts  of  the  sailors,  who  cried  out  three 
times,  VIVE  LE  ROI  !  this*being  the  cry  of  the  French 
in  extreme  danger,  as  well  as  in  exuberant  joy ; — 
as  though  they  wished  to  call  their  prince  to  their 
aid,  or  to  testify  to  him  that  they  are  prepared  to 
lay  down  their  lives  in  his  service. 

As  soon  as  the  Saint-Geran  perceived  that  we 
were  near  enough  to  render  her  assistance,  she  con- 
tinued to  fire  guns  regularly  at  intervals  of  three 
minutes.  Monsieur  de  la  Bourdonnais  caused  great 
fires  to  be  lighted  at  certain  distances  upon  the 
strand,  and  sent  to  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood, in  search  of  provisions,  planks,  cables, 
and  empty  barrels.  A  number  of  people  soon  ar- 
rived, accompanied  by  their  negroes  loaded  with 
provisions  and  cordage,  which  they  had  brought 
from  the  plantations  of  Golden  Dust,  from  the  dis- 


188  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

trict  of  La  Flaque,  and  from  the  river,  of  the  Earn- 
part.  One  of  the  most  aged  of  these  planters, 
approaching  the  governor,  said  to  him,—"  We  have 
heard  all  night  hollow  noises  in  the  mountain ;  in 
the  woods,  the  leaves  of  the  trees  are  shaken,  al- 
though there  is  no  wind ;  the  sea-birds  seek  refuge 
upon  the  land:  it  is  certain  that  all  these  signs 
announce  a  hurricane."  "Well,  my  friends,"  an- 
swered the  governor,  "  we  are  prepared  for  it,  and 
no  doubt  the  vessel  is  also." 

Every  thing,  indeed,  presaged  the  near  approach 
of  the  hurricane.  The  centre  of  the  clouds  in  the 
zenith  was  of  a  dismal  black,  while  their  skirts 
were  tinged  with  a  copper-<t)loured  hue.  The  air 
resounded  with  the  cries  of  the  tropic-birds,  petrels, 
frigate-birds,  and  innumerable  other  sea-fowl,  which 
notwithstanding  the  obscurity  of  the  atmosphere, 
were  seen  coming  from  every  point  of  the  horizon, 
to  seek  for  shelter  in  the  island. 

Towards  nine  in  the  morning  we  heard  in  the 
direction  of  the  ocean  the  most  terrific  noise,  like 
the  sound  of  thunder  mingled  with  that  of  torrents 
rushing  down  the  steeps  of  lofty  mountains.  A 
general  cry  was  heard  of,  "  There  is  the  hurricane !" 
and  the  next  moment  a  frightful  gust  of  wind  dis- 
pelled the  fog  which  covered  the  isle  of  Amber  and 
its  channel.  The  Saint-Geran  then  presented  her- 
self to  our  view,  her  deck  crowded  with  people,  her 
yards  and  topmasts  lowered  down,  and  her  flag 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  189 

half-mast  high,  moored  by  four  cables  at 'her  bow 
and  one  at  her  stern.     She  had  anchored  between 
the  isle  of  Amber  and  the  main  land,  inside  the 
chain  of  reefs  which  encircles  the  island,  and  which 
she  had  passed  through  in  a  place  where  no  vessel 
had  ever  passed  before.    She  presented  her  head  to 
the  waves  that  rolled  in  from  the  open  sea,  and  as 
each  billow  rushed  into  the  narrow  strait  where  she 
lay,  her  bow  lifted  to  such  a  degree  as  to  show  her 
keel ;  and  at  the  same  moment  her  stern,  plunging 
into   the  water,    disappeared  altogether  from  our 
sight,   as  if  it  were  swallowed  up  by  the  surges. 
In  this  position,  driven  by  the  winds  and  waves 
towards  the  shore,  it  was  equally  impossible  for  her 
to  return  by  the  passage  through  which  she  had 
made  her  way ;  or,  by  cutting  her  cables,  to  strand 
herself  upon  the  beach,  from  which  she  was  sepa- 
rated by  sandbanks   and  reefs   of   rocks.     Every 
billow  which  broke  upon  the  coast  advanced  roaring 
to  the  bottom  of  the  bay,  throwing  up  heaps  of 
shingle  to  the  distance  of  fifty  feet  upon  the  land ; 
then,  rushing  back,  laid  bare  its  sandy  bed,   from 
which  it  rolled  immense  stones,  with  a  hoarse  and 
dismal  noise.     The  sea,  swelled  by  the  violence  of 
the  wind,  rose  higher  every  moment ;  and  the  whole 
channel  between  this  island  ajnd  the  isle  of  Amber 
was   soon  one  vast   sheet   of  white   foam,  full  of 
yawning  pits  of  black  and  deep  billows.     Heaps  of 
this  foam,  more  than  six  feet  high,  were  piled  up 


190  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

at  the  bottom  of  the  bay ;  and  the  winds  which 
swept  its  surface  carried  masses  of  it  over  the  steep 
sea-bank,  scattering  it  upon  the  land  to  the  distance 
of  half  a  league.  These  innumerable  white  flakes, 
driven  horizontally  even  to  the  very  foot  of  the 
mountains,  looked  like  snow  issuing  from  the  bosom 
of  the  ocean.  The  appearance  of  the  horizon  por- 
tended a  lasting  tempest ;  the  sky  and  the  water 
seemed  blended  together.  Thick  masses  of  clouds, 
of  a  frightful  form,  swept  across  the  zenith  with  the 
swiftness  of  birds,  while  others  appeared  motionless 
as  rocks.  Not  a  single  spot  of  blue  sky  could 
be  discerned  in  the  whole  firmament ;  and  a  pale 
yellow  gleam  only  lightened  up  all  the  objects  of 
the  earth,  the  sea,  and  the  skies. 

From  the  violent  rolling  of  the  ship,  what  we  all 
dreaded  happened  at  last.  The  cables  which  held 
her  bow  were  torn  away  :  she  then  swung  to  a  sin- 
gle hawser,  and  was  instantly  dashed  upon  the 
rocks,  at  the  distance  of  half  a  cable's  length  from 
the  shore.  A  general  cry  of  horror  issued  from 
the  spectators.  Paul  rushed  forward  to  throw  him- 
self into  the  sea,  when,  seizing  him  by  the  arm, 
"  My  son,"  I  exclaimed,  "  would  you  perish  ?" — 
"Let  me  go  to  save  her,"  he  cried,  "or  let  me  die!" 
Seeing  that  despair  ]jad  deprived  him  of  reason, 
Domingo  and  I,  in  order  to  preserve  him,  fastened 
a  long  cord  around  his  waist,  and  held  it  fast  by 
the  end.  Paul  then  precipitated  himself  towards 


PAUL  AND   VIRGINIA.  191 

the  Saint-Geran,  now  swimming,  and  now  walking 
upon  the  rocks.  Sometimes  he  had  hopes  of  reach- 
ing the  vessel,  which  the  sea,  by  the  reflux  of  its 
waves,  had  left  almost  dry,  so  that  you  could  have 
walked  round  it  on  foot ;  but  suddenly  the  billows, 
returning  with  fresh  fury,  shrouded  it  beneath 
mountains  of  water,  which  then  lifted  it  upright 
upon  its  keel.  The  breakers  at  the  same  moment, 
threw  the  unfortunate  Paul  far  upon  the  beach,  his 
legs  bathed  in  blood,  his  bosom  wounded,  and  him- 
self half  dead.  The  moment  he  had  recovered  the 
use  of  his  senses,  he  arose,  and  returned  with  new 
ardour  towards  the  vessel,  the  parts  of  which  now 
yawned  asunder  from  the  violent  strokes  of  the 
billows.  The  crew  then,  despairing  of  their  safety, 
threw  themselves  in  crowds  into  the  sea,  upon  yards, 
planks,  hen-coops,  tables,  and  barrels.  At  this  mo- 
ment we  beheld  an  object  which  wrung  our  hearts 
with  grief  and  pit}^ ;  a  young  lady  appeared  in  the 
stern-gallery  of  the  Saint-Geran,  stretching  out  her 
arms  towards  him  who  was  making  so  many  efforts 
to  join  her.  It  was  Virginia.  She  had  discovered  her 
lover  by  his  intrepidity.  The  sight  of  this  amiable 
girl,  exposed  to  such  horrible  danger,  filled  us  with 
unutterable  despair.  As  for  Virginia,  with  a  firm 
and  dignified  mien,  she  waved  her  hand,  as  if  bid- 
ding us  an  eternal  farewell.  All  the  sailors  had 
flung  themselves  into  the  sea,  except  one,  who  still 
remained  upon  the  deck,  and  who  was  naked,  and 


192  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

strong  as  Hercules.  This  man  approached  Virginia 
with  respect,  and,  kneeling  at  her  feet,  attempted  to 
force  her  to  throw  off  her  clothes ;  but  she  repulsed 
him  with  modesty,  and  turned  away  her  head. 
Then  were  heard  redoubled  cries  from  the  specta- 
tors, "  Save  her ! — save  her ! — do  not  leave  her  !" 
But  at  that  moment  a  mountain  billow,  of  enor- 
mous magnitude,  ingulfed  itself  between  the  isle  of 
Amber  and  the  coast,  and  menaced  the  shattered 
vessel,  towards  which  it  rolled  bellowing,  with  its 
black  sides  and  foaming  head.  At  this  terrible  sight 
the  sailor  flung  himself  into  the  sea ;  and  Virginia, 
seeing  death  inevitable,  crossed  her  hands  upon  her 
breast,  and  raising  upwards  her  serene  and  beau- 
teous eyes,  seemed  an  angel  prepared  to  take  her 
flight  to  Heaven. 

Oh,  day  of  horror !  Alas !  every  thing  was  swal- 
lowed up  by  the  relentless  billows.  The  surge 
threw  some  of  the  spectators,  whom  an  impulse  of 
humanity  had  prompted  to  advance  towards  Vir- 
ginia, far  upon  the  beach,  and  also  the  sailor  who 
had  endeavoured  to  save  her  life.  This  man,  who 
had  escaped  from  almost  certain  death,  kneeling 
on  the  sand,  exclaimed, — "  Oh,  my  God !  thou 
hast  saved  my  life,  but  I  would  have  given  it  will- 
ingly for  that  excellent  young  lady,  who  had  perse- 
vered in  not  undressing  herself  as  I  had  done." 
Domingo  and  I  drew  the  unfortunate  Paul  to  the 
shore.  He  was  senseless,  and  blood  was  flowing 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  193 

from  his  mouth  and  ears.  The  governor  ordered 
him  to  be  put  into  the  hands  of  a  surgeon,  while  we, 
on  our  part,  wandered  along  the  beach,  in  hopes  that 
the  sea  would  throw  up  the  corpse  of  Virginia. 
But  the  wind  having  suddenly  changed,  as  it  fre- 
quently happens  during  hurricanes,  our  search  was 
in  vain ;  and  we  had  the  grief  of  thinking  that  we 
should  not  be  able  to  bestow  on  this  sweet  and  un- 
fortunate girl  the  last  sad  duties.  We  retired  from 
the  spot  overwhelmed  with  dismay,  and  our  minds 
wholly  occupied  by  one  cruel  loss,  although  numbers 
had  perished  in  the  wreck.  Some  of  the  spectators 
seemed  teriipted,  from  the  fatal  destiny  of  this  vir- 
tuous girl,  to  doubt  the  existence  of  Providence : 
for  there  are  in  life  such  terrible,  such  unmerited 
evils,  that  even  the  hope  of  the  wise  is  sometimes 
shaken. 

In  the  meantime  Paul,  who  began  to  recover  his 
senses,  was  taken  to  a  house  in  the  neighbourhood, 
till  he  was  in  a  fit  state  to  be  removed  to  his  own 
home.  Thither  I  bent  my  way  with  Domingo,  to 
discharge  the  melancholy  duty  of  preparing  Vir- 
ginia's mother  and  her  friend  for  the  disastrous 
event  which  had  happened.  When  we  had  reached 
the  entrance  of  the  valley  of  the  river  of  Fan-Palms, 
some  negroes  informed  us  that  the  sea  had  thrown 
up  many  pieces  of  the  wreck  in  the  opposite  bay. 
We  descended  towards  it  and  one  of  the  first  objects 
that  struck  my  sight  upon  the  beach  was  the  corpse 


194  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

of  Virginia.  The  body  was  half  covered  with  sand, 
and  preserved  the  attitude  in  which  we  had  seen 
her  perish.  Her  features  were  not  sensibly  changed, 
her  eyes  were  closed,  and  her  countenance  was  still 
serene ;  but  the  pale  purple  hues  of  death  were 
blended  on  her  cheek  with  the  blush  of  virgin  mo- 
desty. One  of  her  hands  was  placed  upon  her 
clothes  :  and  the  other,  which  she  held  on  her 
heart,  was  fast  closed,  and  so  stiffened,  that  it  was 
with  difficulty  that  I  took  from  its  grasp  a  small 
box.  How  great  was  my  emotion  when  I  saw  that 
it  contained  the  picture  of  Paul,  which  she  had 
promised  him  never  to  part  with  while  she  lived  ! 
At  the  sight  of  this  last  mark  of  the  fidelity  and 
tenderness  of  the  unfortunate  girl,  I  wept  bitterly. 
As  for  Domingo,  he  beat  his  breast,  and  pierced  the 
air  with  his  shrieks.  With  heavy  hearts  we  then 
carried  the  body  of  Virginia  to  a  fisherman's  hut, 
and  gave  it  in  charge  of  some  poor  Malabar  women, 
who  carefully  washed  away  the  sand. 

While  they  were  employed  in  this  melancholy 
office,  we  ascended  the  hill  with  trembling  steps  to 
the  plantation.  We  found  Madame  de  la  Tour  and 
Margaret  at  prayer ;  hourly  expecting  to  have 
tidings  from  the  ship.  As  soon  as  Madame  de  la 
Tour  saw  me  coming,  she  eagerly  cried, — "  Where 
is  my  daughter — my  dear  daughter — my  child?" 
My  silence  and  my  tears  apprised  her  of  her  mis- 
fortune. She  was  instantly  seized  with  a  convulsive 


THE   BODY   OF   VIRGINIA   FOUND    IN   THE   SAND. 


105 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  197 

stopping  of  the  breath  and  agonizing  pains,  and  her 
voice  was  only  heard  in  sighs  and  groans.  Marga- 
ret cried,  "  Where  is  my  son?  I  do  not  see  my  son !" 
and  fainted.  We  ran  to  her  assistance.  In  a 
short  time  she  recovered,  and  being  assured  that 
Paul  was  safe,  and  under  the  care  of  the  governor, 
she  thought  of  nothing  but  of  succouring  her  friend, 
who  recovered  from  one  fainting  fit  only  to  fall  into 
another.  Madame  de  la  Tour  passed  the  whole 
night  in  these  cruel  sufferings,  and  I  became  con- 
vinced that  there  was  no  sorrow  like  that  of  a 
mother.  When  she  recovered  her  senses,  she  cast 
a  fixed,  unconscious  look  towards  heaven.  In  vain 
her  friend  and  myself  pressed  her  hands  in  ours  : 
in  vain  we  called  upon  her  by  the  most  tender 
names ;  she  appeared  wholly  insensible  to  these 
testimonials  of  our  affection,  and  no  sound  issued 
from  her  oppressed  bosom,  but  deep  and  hollow 
moans. 

During  the  morning  Paul  was  carried  home  in  a 
palanquin.  He  had  now  recovered  the  use  of  his 
reason;  but  was  unable  to  utter  a  word.  His  inter- 
view with  his  mother  and  Madame  de  la  Tour, 
which  I  had  dreaded,  produced  a  better  effect  than 
all  my  cares.  A  ray  of  consolation  gleamed  on  the 
countenances  of  the  two  unfortunate  mothers. 
They  pressed  close  to  him,  clasped  him  in  their 
arms,  and  kissed  him  :  their  tears,  which  excess  of 
anguish  had  till  now  dried  up  at  the  source,  began 
17* 


198  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

to  flow.  Paul  mixed  his  tears  with  theirs;  and  na- 
ture having  thus  found  relief,  a  long  stupor  succeeded 
the  convulsive  pangs  they  had  suffered,  and  afforded 
them  a  lethargic  repose,  which  was  in  truth,  like 
that  of  death. 

Monsieur  de  la  Bourdonnais  sent  to  apprise  me 
secretly  that  the  corpse  of  Virginia  had  been  borne 
to  the  town  by  his  order,  from  whence  it  was  to  be 
transferred  to  the  church  of  the  Shaddock  Grove. 
I  immediately  went  down  to  Port  Louis,  where  I 
found  a  multitude  assembled  from  all  parts  of  the 
island,  in  order  to  be  present  at  the  funeral  solem- 
nity, as  if  the  isle  had  lost  that  which  was  nearest 
and  dearest  to  it.  The  vessels  in  the  harbour  had 
their  yards  crossed,  their  flags  half-mast,  and  fired 
guns  at  long  intervals.  A  body  of  grenadiers  led 
the  funeral  procession,  with  their  muskets  reversed, 
their  muffled  drums  sending  forth  slow  and  dismal 
sounds..  Dejection  was  depicted  in  the  countenance 
of  these  warriors,  who  had  so  often  braved  death 
in  battle  without  changing  colour.  Eight  young 
ladies  of  considerable  families  of  the  island,  dressed 
in  white,  and  bearing  palm-branches  in  their  hands, 
carried  the  corpse  of  their  amiable  companion, 
which  was  covered  with  flowers.  They  were  fol- 
lowed by  a  chorus  of  children,  chanting  hymns, 
and  by  the  governor,  his  field  officers,  all  the  prin- 
cipal inhabitants  of  the  island,  and  an  immense 
crowd  of  people. 


PAUL    AND   VIRGINIA.  199 

This  imposing  funeral  solemnity  had  been  order- 
ed by  the  administration  of  the  country,  which  was 
desirous  of  doing  honour  to  the  virtues  of  Virginia. 
But  when  the  mournful  procession  arrived  at  the 
foot  of  this  mountain,  within  sight  of  those  cottages 
of  which  she  had  been  so  long  an  inmate  and  an 
ornament,  diffusing  happiness  all  around  them,  and 
which  her  loss  had  now  filled  with  despair,  the 
funeral  pomp  was  interrupted,  the  hymns  and  an- 
thems ceased,  and  the  whole  plain  resounded  with 
sighs  and  lamentations.  Numbers  of  young  girls 
ran  from  the  neighbouring  plantations,  to  touch  the 
coffin  of  Virginia  with  their  handkerchiefs,  and  with 
chaplets  and  crowns  of  flowers,  invoking  her  as  a 
saint.  Mothers  asked  of  heaven  a  child  like  Vir- 
ginia ;  lovers,  a  heart  as  faithful ;  the  poor,  as  tender 
a  friend ;  and  the  slaves  as  kind  a  mistress. 

When  the  procession  had  reached  the  place  of 
interment,  some  negresses  of  Madagascar  and  Caffres 
of  Mozambique  placed  a  number  of  baskets  of  fruit 
around  the  corpse,  and  hung  pieces  of  stuff  upon 
the  adjoining  trees,  according  to  the  custom  of  their 
several  countries.  Some  Indian  women  from  Bengal 
also,  and  from  the  coast  of  Malabar,  brought  cages 
full  of  small  birds,  which  they  set  at  liberty  upon 
her  coffin.  Thus  deeply  did  the  loss  of  this  amia- 
ble being  affect  the  natives  of  different  countries, 
and  thus  was  the  ritual  of  various  religions  per- 
formed over  the  tomb  of  unfortunate  virtue 


200  PAUL  AND   VIRGINIA. 

It  became  necessary  to  place  guards  round  her 
grave,  and  to  employ  gentle  force  in  removing  some 
of  the  daughters  of  the  neighbouring  villagers,  who 
endeavoured  to  throw  themselves  into  it,  saying 
that  they  had  no  longer  any  consolation  to  hope  for 
in  his  world,  and  that  nothing  remained  for  them 
but  to  die  with  their  benefactress. 

On  the  western  side  of  the  church  of  the  Shad- 
dock Grove  is  a  small  copse  of  bamboos,  where,  in 
returning  from  mass  with  her  mother  and  Margaret, 
Virginia  loved  to  rest  herself,  seated  by  the  side  of 
him  whom  she  then  called  brother.  This  was  the 
spot  selected  for  her  interment. 

At  his  return  from  the  funeral  solemnity,  Mon- 
sieur de  la  Bourdonnais  came  up  here,  followed  by 
part  of  his  numerous  retinue.  He  offered  Madame 
de  la  Tour  and  her  friend  all  the  assistance  it  was 
in  his  power  to  bestow.  After  briefly  expressing 
his  indignation  at  the  conduct  of  her  unnatural 
aunt,  he  advanced  to  Paul,  and  said  every  thing 
which  he  thought  most  likely  to  soothe  and  console 
him.  "  Heaven  is  my  witness,"  said  he,  "  that  I 
wished  to  insure  your  happiness,  and  that  of  your 
family.  My  dear  friend,  you  must  go  to  France ;  I 
will  obtain  a  commission  for  you,  and  during  your 
absence  I  will  take  the  same  care  of  your  mother 
as  if  she  were  my  own."  He  then  offered  him  his 
hand ;  but  Paul  drew  away  and  turned  his  head 
aside,  unable  to  bear  his  sight. 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  201 

I  remained  for  some  time  at  the  plantation  of  my 
unfortunate  friends,  that  I  might  render  to  them 
and  Paul  those  offices  of  friendship  that  were  in  my 
power,  and  which  might  alleviate,  though  they 
could  not  heal  the  wounds  of  calamity.  At  the 
end  of  three  weeks  Paul  was  able  to  walk ;  but  his 
mind  seemed  to  droop  in  proportion  as  his  body 
gathered  strength.  He  was  insensible  to  every 
thing;  his  look  was  vacant;  and  when  asked  a 
question,  he  made  no  reply.  Madame  de  la  Tour, 
who  was  dying  said  to  him  often, — "  My  son,  while 
I  look  at  you,  I  think  I  see  my  dear  Virginia."  At 
the  name  of  Virginia  he  shuddered,  and  hastened 
away  from  her,  notwithstanding  the  entreaties  of 
his  mother,  who  begged  him  to  come  back  to  her 
friend.  He  used  to  go  alone  into  the  garden,  and 
seat  himself  at  the  foot  of  Virginia's  cocoa-tree,  with 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  fountain.  The  governor's 
surgeon,  who  had  shown  the  most  humane  attention 
to  Paul  and  the  whole  family,  told  us  that  in  order 
to  cure  the  deep  melancholy  which  had  taken  pos- 
session of  his  mind,  we  must  allow  him  to  do  what- 
ever he  pleased,  without  contradiction :  this,  he  said, 
afforded  the  only  chance  of  overcoming  the  silence 
in  which  he  perse vefed. 

I  resolved  to  follow  this  advice.  The  first  use 
which  Paul  made  of  his  returning  strength  was  to 
absent  himself  from  the  plantation.  Being  deter- 
mined not  to  lose  sight  of  him  I  set  out  immediately, 


202  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

and  desired  Domingo  to  take  some  provisions  and 
accompany  us.  The  young  man's  strength  and 
spirits  seemed  renewed  as  he  descended  the  moun- 
tain. He  first  took  the  road  to  the  Shaddock  Grove, 
and  when  he  was  near  the  church,  in  the  Alley  of 
Bamboos,  he  walked  directly  to  the  spot  where  he 
saw  some  earth  fresh  turned  up;  kneeling  down 
there,  and  raising  his  eyes  to  heaven,  he  offered  up 
a  long  prayer.  This  appeared  to  me  a  favourable 
symptom  of  the  return  of  his  reason ;  since  this 
mark  of  confidence  in  the  Supreme  Being  showed 
that  his  mind  was  beginning  to  resume  its  natural 
functions.  Domingo  and  I,  following  his  example, 
fell  upon  our  knees,  and  mingled  our  prayers  with 
his.  When  he  arose,  he  bent  his  way,  paying  little 
attention  to  us,  towards  the  northern  part  of  the 
island.  As  I  knew  that  he  was  not  only  ignorant 
of  the  spot  where  the  body  of  Virginia  had  been 
deposited,  but  even  of  the  fact  that  it  had  been 
recovered  from  the  waves,  I  asked  him  why  he  had 
offered  up  his  prayer  at  the  foot  of  those  bamboos. 
He  answered, — "  We  have  been  there  so  often." 

He  continued  his  course  until  we  reached  the 
borders  of  the  forest,  when  night  came  on.  I  set 
him  the  example  of  taking  some  nourishment,  and 
prevailed  on  him  to  do  the  same;  and  we  slept 
upon  the  grass,  at  the  foot  of  a  tree.  The  next  day 
I  thought  he  seemed  disposed  to  retrace  his  steps ; 
for,  after  having  gazed  a  considerable  time  from 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  203 

the  plain  upon  the  church  of  the  Shaddock  Grove, 
with  its  long  avenues  of  bamboos,  he  made  a  move- 
ment as  if  to  return  home ;  but  suddenly  plunging 
into  the  forest,  he  directed  his  course  towards  the 
north.  I  guessed  what  was  his  design,  and  I  en- 
deavoured, but  in  vain,  to  dissuade  him  from  it. 
About  noon  we  arrived  at  the  quarter  of  Golden 
Dust.  He  rushed  down  to  the  sea-shore,  opposite 
to  the  spot  where  the  Saint-Geran  had  been 
wrecked.  At  the  sight  of  the  isle  of  Amber,  and 
its  channel,  then  smooth  as  a  mirror,  he  ex- 
claimed,— "  Virginia  !  oh,  my  dear  Virginia !"  and 
fell  senseless.  Domingo  and  I  carried  him  into 
the  woods,  where  we  had  some  difficulty  in  reco- 
vering him.  As  soon  as  he  regained  his  senses,  he 
wished  to  return  to  the  sea-shore;  but  we  con- 
jured him  not  to  renew  his  own  anguish  and  ours 
by  such  cruel  remembrances,  and  he  took  another 
direction.  During  a  whole  week  he  sought  every 
spot  where  he  had  once  wandered  with  the  com- 
panion of  his  childhood.  He  traced  the  path  by 
which  she  had  gone  to  intercede  for  the  slave  of 
the  Black  River.  He  gazed  again  upon  the  banks 
of  the  river  of  the  Three  Breasts,  where  she  had 
rested  herself  when  unable  to  walk  further,  and 
upon  that  part  of  the  wood  where  they  had  lost 
their  way.  All  the  haunts,  which  recalled  to  his 
memory  the  anxieties,  the  sports,  the  repasts,  the 
benevolence  of  her  he  loved, — -the  river  of  the 


204  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

Sloping  Mountain,  my  house,  the  neighbouring 
cascade,  the  papaw  tree  she  had  planted,  the  grassy 
fields  in  which  she  loved  to  run,  the  openings  of 
the  forest  where  she  used  to  sing,  all  in  succession 
called  forth  his  tears;  and  those  very  echoes  which 
had  so  often  resounded  with  their  mutual  shouts 
of  joy,  now  repeated  only  these  accents  of  despair, 
— "  Virginia !  oh,  my  dear  Virginia !" 

During  this  savage  and  wandering  life,  his  eyes 
became  sunk  and  hollow,  his  skin  assumed  a  yellow 
tint,  and  his  health  rapidly  declined.  Convinced 
that  our  present  sufferings  are  rendered  more  acute 
by  the  bitter  recollection  of  bygone  pleasures,  and 
that  the  passions  gather  strength  in  solitude,  I 
resolved  to  remove  my  unfortunate  friend  from 
those  scenes  which  recalled  the  remembrance  of 
his  loss,  and  to  lead  him  to  a  more  busy  part  of 
the  island.  With  this  view,  I  conducted  him  to 
the  inhabited  part  of  the  elevated  quarter  of  Wil- 
liams, which  he  had  never  visited,  and  where  the 
busy  pursuits  of  agriculture  and  commerce  ever 
occasioned  much  bustle  and  variety.  Numbers  of 
carpenters  were  employed  in  hewing  down  and 
squaring  trees,  while  others  were  sawing  them  into 
planks;  carriages  were  continually  passing  and 
repassing  on  the  roads;  numerous  herds  of  oxen 
and  troops  of  horses  were  feeding  on  those  wide- 
spread meadows,  and  the  whole  country  was  dotted 
with  the  dwellings  of  man.  On  some  spots  the 


PAUL  AND   VIRGINIA.  205 

elevation  of  the  soil  permitted  the  culture  of  many 
of  the  plants  of  Europe  :  the  yellow  ears  of  ripe 
corn  waved  upon  the  plains;  strawberry  plants 
grew  in  the  openings  of  the  woods,  and  the  roads 
were  bordered  by  hedges  of  rose-trees.  The  fresh- 
ness of  the  air,  too,  giving  tension  to  the  nerves, 
was  favourable  to  the  health  of  Europeans.  From 
those  heights,  situated  near  the  middle  of  the 
island,  and  surrounded  by  extensive  forests,  nei- 
ther the  sea,  nor  Port  Louis,  nor  the  church  of  the 
Shaddock  Grove,  nor  any  other  object  associated 
with  the  remembrance  of  Virginia  could  be  dis- 
cerned. Even  the  mountains,  which  present  va- 
rious shapes  on  the  side  of  Port  Louis,  appear  from 
hence  like  a  long  promontory,  in  a  straight  and 
perpendicular  line,  from  which  arise  lofty  pyramids 
of  rock,  whose  summits  are  enveloped  in  the  clouds. 
Conducting  Paul  to  these  scenes,  I  kept  him  con- 
tinually in  action,  walking  with  him  in  rain  and 
sunshine,  by  day  and  by  night.  I  sometimes  wan- 
dered with  him  into  the  depths  of  the  forests,  or 
led  him  over  untilled  grounds,  hoping  that  change 
of  scene  and  fatigue  might  divert  his  mind  from  its 
gloomy  meditations.  But  the  soul  of  a  lover  finds 
everj-where  the  traces  of  the  beloved  object.  Night 
and  day,  the  calm  of  solitude  and  the  tumult  of 
crowds,  are  to  him  the  same;  time  itself,  which 
casts  the  shade  of  oblivion  over  so  many  other 
remembrances,  in  vain  would  tear  that  tender  and 
18 


206  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

sacred  recollection  from  the  heart.  The  needle, 
when  touched  by  the  loadstone,  however  it  may 
have  been  moved  from  its  position,  is  no  sooner 
left  to  repose,  than  it  returns  to  the  pole  of  its 
attraction.  So,  when  I  inquired  of  Paul,  as  we 
wandered  amidst  the  plains  of  Williams, — "  Where 
shall  we  now  go?"  he  pointed  to  the  north,  and 
said,  "Yonder  are  our  mountains;  let  us  return 
home." 

I  now  saw  that  all  the  means  I  took  to  divert 
him  from  his  melancholy  were  fruitless,  and  that 
no  resource  wras  left  but  an  attempt  to  combat  his 
passion  by  the  arguments  which  reason  suggested. 
I  answered  him, — "  Yes,  there  are  the  mountains 
where  once  dwelt  your  beloved  Virginia ;  and  here 
is  the  picture  you  gave  her,  and  which  she  held, 
when  dying,  to  her  heart — that  heart,  which  even 
in  its  last  moments  only  beat  for  you."  I  then 
presented  to  Paul  the  little  portrait  which  he  had 
given  to  Virginia  on  the  borders  of  the  cocoa-tree 
fountain.  At  this  sight  a  gloomy  joy  overspread 
his  countenance.  He  eagerly  seized  the  picture 
with  his  feeble  hands,  and  held  it  to  his  lips.  His 
oppressed  bosom  seemed  ready  to  burst  with  emo- 
tion, and  his-  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  which  had 
no  power  to  flow. 

"  My  son,"  said  I,  "  listen  to  one  wrho  is  your 
friend,  who  was  the  friend  of  Virginia,  and  who, 
.in  the  bloom  of  your  hopes,  has  often  endeavoured 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  207 

to  fortify  your  mind  against  the  unforseen  accidents 
of  life.  What  do  you  deplore  with  so  much  bitter- 
ness? Is  it  your  own  misfortunes,  or  those  of  Vir- 
ginia, which  affect  you  so  deeply  ? 

"  Your  own  misfortunes  are  indeed  severe.  You 
have  lost  the  most  amiable  of  girls,  who  would 
have  grown  up  to  womanhood  a  pattern  to  her  sex, 
one  who  sacrificed  her  own  interests  to  yours:  who 
preferred  you  to  all  that  fortune  could  bestow,  and 
considered  you  as  the  only  recompense  worthy  of 
her  virtues. 

"  But  might  not  this  very  object,  from  whom  you 
expected  the  purest  happiness,  have  proved  to  you 
a  source  of  the  most  cruel  distress  ?  She  had  re- 
turned poor  and  disinherited ;  all  you  could  hence- 
forth have  partaken  with  her  was  your  labour. 
Rendered  more  delicate  by  her  education,  and  more 
courageous  by  her  misfortunes,  you  might  have 
beheld  her  every  day  sinking  beneath  her  efforts  to 
share  and  lighten  your  fatigues.  Had  she  brought 
you  children,  they  would  only  have  served  to  in- 
crease her  anxieties  and  your  own,  from  the  difficulty 
of  sustaining  at  once  your  aged  parents  and  your 
infant  family. 

"  Very  likely  you  will  tell  me  that  the  governor 
would  have  helped  you ;  but  how  do  you  know  that 
in  a  colony  whose  governors  are  so  frequently 
changed,  you  would  have  had  others  like  Monsieur 
de  la  Bourdonnais? — that  one  might  not  have  been 


208  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

sent  destitute  of  good  feeling  and  of  morality? — that 
your  young  wife,  in  order  .to  procure  some  miserable 
pittance,  might  not  have  been  obliged  to  seek  his 
favour  ?  Had  she  been  weak  you  would  have  been 
to  be  pitied ;  and  if  she  had  remained  virtuous, 
you  would  have  continued  poor:  forced  even  to 
consider  yourself  fortunate  if,  on  account  of  the 
beauty  and  virtue  of  your  wife,  you  had  not  to 
endure  persecution  from  those  who  had  promised 
you  protection. 

"  It  would  still  have  remained  to  you,  you  may 
say,  to  have  enjoyed  a  pleasure  independent  of 
fortune, — that  of  protecting  a  beloved  being,  who, 
in  proportion  to  her  own  helplessness,  had  more 
attached  herself  to  you.  You  may  fancy  that  your 
pains  and  sufferings  would  have  served  to  endear 
you  to  each  other,  and  that  your  passion  would 
have  gathered  strength  from  your  mutual  misfor- 
tunes. Undoubtedly  virtuous  love  does  find  conso- 
lation even  in  such  melancholy  retrospects.  But 
Virginia  is  no  more ;  yet  those  persons  still  live, 
whom,  next  to  yourself,  she  held  most  dear ;  her 
mother,  and  your  own  :  your  inconsolable  affliction 
is  bringing  them  both  to  the  grave.  Place  your 
happiness,  as  she  did  hers,  in  affording  them  suc- 
cour. My  son,  beneficence  is  the  happiness  of  the 
virtuous :  there  is  no  greater  or  more  certain  enjoy- 
ment on  the  earth.  Schemes  of  pleasure,  repose,  luxu- 
ries, wealth,  and  glory  are  not  suited  to  man,  weak, 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  209 

wandering,  and  transitory  as  he  is.  See  how  rapid- 
ly one  step  towards  the  acquisition  of  fortune  has 
precipitated  us  all  to  the  lowest  abyss  of  misery ! 
You  were  opposed  to  it,  it  is  true  ;  but  who  would 
not  have  thought  that  Virginia's  voyage  would  ter- 
minate in  her  happiness  and  your  own  ?  an  invita- 
tion from  a  rich  and  aged  relation,  the  advice  of  a 
wise  governor,  the  approbation  of  the  whole  colony, 
and  the  well-advised  authority  of  her  confessor, 
decided  the  lot  of  Virginia.  Thus  do  we  run  to 
our  ruin,  deceived  even  by  the  prudence  of  those 
who  watch  over  us :  it  would  be  better,  no  doubt,  not 
to  believe  them,  nor  even  to  listen  to  the  voice  or  lean 
on  the  hopes  of  a  deceitful  world.  But  all  men, — 
those  you  see  occupied  in  these  plains,  those  who 
go  abroad  to  seek  their  fortunes,  and  those  in 
Europe  who  enjoy  repose  from  the  labours  of  others, 
are  liable  to  reverses !  not  one  is  secure  from  losing, 
at  some  period,  all  that  he  most  values,. — greatness, 
wealth,  wife,  children,  and  friends.  Most  of  these 
would  have  their  sorrow  increased  by  the  remem- 
brance of  their  own  imprudence.  But  you  have 
nothing  with  which  you  can  reproach  yourself. 
You  have  been  faithful  in  your  love.  In  the  bloom 
of  youth,  by  not  departing  from  the  dictates  of 
nature,  you  evinced  the  wisdom  of  a  sage.  Your 
views  were  just,  because  they  were  pure,  simple, 
and  disinterested.  You  had,  besides,  on  Virginia, 
sacred  claims  which  noting  could  countervail, 
o  18* 


210  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

You  have  lost  her  :  but  it  is  neither  your  own  im- 
prudence, nor  your  avarice,  nor  your  false  wisdom 
which  has  occasioned  this  misfortune,  but  the  will 
of  God,  who  has  employed  the  passions  of  others 
to  snatch  from  you  the  object  of  your  love ;  God, 
from  whom  you  derive  every  thing,  who  knows 
what  is  most  fitting  for  you,  and  whose  wisdom  has 
not  left  you  any  cause  for  the  repentance  and  despair 
which  succeed  the  calamities  that  are  brought  upon 
us  by  ourselves. 

"  Vainly,  in  your  misfortunes,  do  you  say  to  your- 
self 'I  have  not  deserved  them.'  Is  it  then  the 
calamity  of  Virginia — her  death  and  her  present 
condition  that  you  deplore  ?  She  has  undergone 
the  fate  allotted  to  all, — to  high  birth,  to  beauty, 
and  even  to  empires  themselves.  The  life  of  man, 
with  all  his  projects,  may  be  compared  to  a  tower, 
at  whose  summit  is  death.  When  your  Virginia 
was  born,  she  was  condemned  to  die ;  happily  for 
herself,  she  is  released  from  life  before  losing  her 
mother,  or  yours,  or  you ;  saved,  thus,  from  under- 
going pangs  worse  than  those  of  death  itself. 

"  Learn  then,  my  son,  that  death  is  a  benefit  to 
all  men :  it  is  the  night  of  that  restless  day  we  call 
by  the  name  of  life.  The  diseases,  the  griefs,  the 
vexations,  and  the  fears,  which  perpetually  embitter 
our  life  as  long  as  we  possess  it,  molest  us  no  more 
in  the  sleep  of  death.  If  you  inquire  into  the  his- 
tory of  those  men  who*  appear  to  have  been  the 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  211 

happiest,  you  will  find  that  they  have  bought  their 
apparent  felicity  very  dear;  public  consideration, 
perhaps,  by  domestic  evils ;  fortune,  by  the  loss  of 
health;  the  rare  happiness  of  being  beloved,  by 
continual  sacrifices;  and  often,  at  the  expiration 
of  a  life  devoted  to  the  good  of  others,  they  see 
themselves  surrounded  only  by  false  friends,  and 
ungrateful  relations.  But  Virginia  was  happy  to 
her  very  last  moment.  When  with  us,  she  was 
happy  in  partaking  of  the  gifts  of  nature ;  when 
far  from  us,  she  found  enjoyment  in  the  practice  of 
virtue ;  and  even  at  the  terrible  moment  in  which 
we  saw  her  perish,  she  still  had  cause  for  self-gratu- 
lation.  For,  whether  she  cast  her  eyes  on  the 
assembled  colony,  made  miserable  by  her  expected 
loss,  or  on  you,  iny  son,  who,  with  so  much  intre- 
pidity, were  endeavouring  to  save  her,  she  must 
have  seen  how  dear  she  was  to  all.  Her  mind  was 
fortified  against  the  future  by  the  remembrance  of 
her  innocent  life ;  and  at  that  moment  she  received 
the  reward  which  Heaven  reserves  for  virtue, — a 
courage  superior  to  danger.  She  met  death  with  a 
serene  countenance. 

"My  son!  God  gives  all  the  trials  of  life  to 
virtue,  in  order  to  show  that  virtue  alone  can  sup- 
port them,  and  even  find  in  them  happiness  and 
glory.  When  he  designs  for  it  an  illustrious  repu- 
tation, he  exhibits  it  on  a  wide  theatre,  and 
contending  with  death.  Then  does  the  courage  of 


212  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

virtue  shine  forth  as  an  example,  and  the  misfortunes 
to  which  it  has  been  exposed  receive  for  ever,  from 
posterity,  the  tribute  of  their  tears.  This  is  the 
immortal  monument  reserved  for  virtue  in  a  world 
where  every  thing  else  passes  away,  and  where  the 
names,  even  of  the  greater  number  of  kings  them- 
selves, are  soon  buried  in  eternal  oblivion. 

"  Meanwhile  Virginia  still  exists.  My  son,  you 
see  that  every  thing  changes  on  this  earth,  but  that 
nothing  is  ever  lost.  -No  art  of  man  can  annihilate 
the  smallest  particle  of  matter;  can,  then,  that 
which  has  possessed  reason,  sensibility,  affection, 
virtue,  and  religion  be  supposed  capable  of  des- 
truction, when  the  very  elements  with  which  it  is 
clothed  are  imperishable  ?  Ah !  however  happy  Vir- 
ginia may  have  been  with  us,  she  is  now  much 
more  so.  There  is  a  God,  my  son ;  it  is  unnecessary 
for  me  to  prove  it  to  you,  for  the  voice  of  all  nature 
loudly  proclaims  it.  The  wickedness  of  mankind 
lead  them  to  deny  the  existence  of  a  Being,  whose 
justice  they  fear.  But  your  mind  is  fully  convinced 
of  his  existence,  while  his  works  are  ever  before 
your  eyes.  Do  you  then  believe  that  he  would 
leave  Virginia  without  recompense  ?  Do  you  think 
that  the  same  Power  which  inclosed  her  noble  soul 
in  a  form  so  beautiful, — so  like  an  emanation  from 
itself,  could  not  have  saved  her  from  the  waves? 
— that  he  who  has  ordained  the  happiness  of  man 
here,  by  laws  unknown  to  you,  cannot  prepare 


PAUL   AND    VIRGINIA.  213 

a  still  higher  degree  of  felicity  for  Virginia  by  other 
laws,  of  which  you  are  equally  ignorant?  Be- 
fore we  were  born  into  this  world,  could  we,  do  you 
imagine,  even  if  we  were  capable  of.  thinking  at 
all,  have  formed  any  idea  of  our  existence  here  ? 
And  now  that  we  are  in  the  midst  of  this  gloomy 
and  transitory  life,  can  we  foresee  what  is  beyond 
the  tomb,  or  in  what  manner  we  shall  be  emanci- 
pated from  it?  Does  God,  like  man,  need  this 
little  globe,  the  earth,  as  a  theatre  for  the  display 
of  his  intelligence  and  his  goodness  ? — and  can  he 
only  dispose  of  human  life  in  the  territory  of 
death?  There  is  not,  in  the  entire  ocean,  a  single 
drop  of  water  which  is  not  peopled  with  living 
beings  appertaining  to  man  :  and  does  ,  there  exist 
nothing  for  him  in  the  heavens  above  his  head  ? 
What !  is  there  no  supreme  intelligence,  no  divine 
goodness,  except  on  this  little  spot  where  we  are 
placed?  In  those  innumerable  glowing  fires, — in 
those  infinite  fields  of  light  which  surround  them, 
and  which  neither  storms  nor  darkness  can  extin- 
guish, is  there  nothing  but  empty  space  and  an 
eternal  void  ?  If  we,  weak  and  ignorant  as  we  are, 
might  dare  to  assign  limits  to  that  Power  from 
whom  we  have  received  every  thing,  we  might  pos- 
sibly imagine  that  we  were  placed  on  the  very 
confines  of  his  empire,  where  life  is  perpetually 
struggling  with  death,  and  innocence  for  ever  in 
danger  from  the  power  of  tyranny !  . 


214  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

"  Somewhere,  then,  without  doubt,  there  is  ano- 
ther world,  where  virtue  will  receive  its  reward. 
Virginia  is  now  happy.  Ah  !  if  from  the  abode  of 
angels  she  could  hold  communication  with  you,  she 
would  tell  you,  as  she  did  when  she  bade  you  her 
last  adieus, — '  0,  Paul !  life  is  but  a  scene  of  trial. 
I  have  been  obedient  to  the  laws  of  nature,  love, 
and  virtue.  I  crossed  the  seas  to  obey  the  will  of 
my  relations ;  I  sacrificed  wealth  in  order  to  keep 
my  faith ;  and  I  preferred  the  loss  of  life  to  diso- 
beying the  dictates  of  modesty.  Heaven  found 
that  I  had  fulfilled  my  duties,  and  has  snatched 
me  for  ever  from  all  the  miseries  I  might  have 
endured  myself,  and  all  I  might  have  felt  for  the 
miseries  of  others.  I  am  placed  far  above  the 
reach  of  all  human  evils,  and  you  pity  me !  I  am 
become  pure  and  unchangeable  as  a  particle  of 
light,  and  you  would  recall  me  to  the  darkness  of 
human  life  !  0,  Paul !  0,  my  beloved  friend  !  re- 
collect those  days  of  happiness,  when  in  the  morn- 
ing we  felt  the  delightful  sensations  excited  by  the 
unfolding  beauties  of  nature ;  when  we  seemed  to 
rise  with  the  sun  to  the  peaks  of  those  rocks,  and 
then  to  spread  with  his  rays  over  the  bosom  of  the 
forests.  We  experienced  a  delight,  the  cause  of 
which  we  could  not  comprehend.  In  the  inno- 
cence of  our  desires,  we  wished  to  be  all  sight, 
to  enjoy  the  rich  colours  of  the  early  dawn ;  all 
smell,  to  taste  a  thousand  perfumes  at  once  j  all 


PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA.  215 

hearing,  to  listen  to  the  singing  of  our  birds ;  and 
all  heart,  to  be  capable  of  gratitude  for  those  min- 
gled blessings.  Now,  at  the  source  of  the  beauty 
whence  flows  all  that  is  delightful  upon  earth,  my 
soul  intuitively  sees,  tastes,  hears,  touches,  what 
before  she  could  only  be  made  sensible  of  through 
the  medium  of  our  weak  organs.  Ah  !  what  lan- 
guage can  describe  these  shores  of  eternal  bliss, 
which  I  inhabit  for  ever !  All  that  infinite  power 
and  heavenly  goodness  could  create  to  console  the 
unhappy :  all  that  the  friendship  of  numberless 
beings,  exulting  in  the  same  felicity  can  impart, 
we  enjoy  in  unmixed  perfection.  Support,  then, 
the  trial  which  is  now  allotted  to  you,  that  you 
may  heighten  the  happiness  of  your  Virginia  by 
love  which  will  know  no  termination, — by  a  union 
which  will  be  eternal.  There  I  will  calm  your 
regrets,  I  will  wipe  away  your  tears.  Oh,  my  be- 
loved friend !  my  youthful  husband !  raise  your 
thoughts  towards  the  infinite,  to  enable  you  to 
support  the  evils  of  a  moment.'  " 

My  own  emotion  choked  my  utterance.  Paul, 
looking  at  me  steadfastly,  cried, — "  She  is  no  more ! 
she  is  no  more !"  and  a  long  fainting  fit  succeeded 
these  words  of  woe.  When  restored  to  himself,,  he 
said,  "  Since  death  is  a  good,  and  since  Virginia  is 
happy,  I  will  die  too,  and  be  united  to  Virginia." 
Thus  the  motives  of  consolation  I  had  offered,  only 
served  "to  nourish  his  despair.  I  was  in  the  situa- 


216  PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA. 

tion  of  a  man  who  attempts  to  save  a  friend  sink- 
ing in  the  midst  of  a  flood,  and  who  obstinately 
refuses  to  swim.  Sorrow  had  completely  over- 
whelmed his  soul.  Alas  !  the  trials  of  early  years 
prepare  man  for  the  afflictions  of  after-life ;  but 
Paul  had  never  experienced  any. 

I  took  him  back  to  his  own  dwelling,  where  I 
found  his  mother  and  Madame  de  la  Tour  in  a  state 
of  increased  languor  and  exhaustion,  but  Margaret 
seemed  to  droop  the  most.  Lively  characters,  upon 
whom  petty  troubles  have  but  little  effect,  sink  the 
soonest  under  great  calamities. 

"  0  my  good  friend,"  said  Margaret,  "  I  thought 
last  night  I  saw  Virginia,  dressed  in  white,  in  the 
midst  of  groves  and  delicious  gardens.  She  said  to 
me,  '  I  enjoy  the  most  perfect  happiness  :'  and  then 
approaching  Paul  with  a  smiling  air,  she  bore  him 
away  with  her.  While  I  was  struggling  to  retain 
my  son,  I  felt  that  I  myself  too  was  quitting  the 
earth,  and  that  I  followed  with  inexpressible  delight. 
I  then  wished  to  bid  my  friend  farewell,  when  I  saw 
that  she  was  hastening  after  me,  accompanied  by 
Mary  and  Domingo.  But  the  strangest  circumstance 
remains  yet  to  be  told ;  Madame  de  la  Tour  has  this 
very  night  had  a  dream  exactly  like  mine  in  every 
possible  respect." 

"  My  dear  friend,"  I  replied,  "  nothing,  I  firmly 
believe,  happens  in  this  world  without  the  permis- 
sion of  God.  Future  events,  too,  are  sdmetimes 
revealed  in  dreams." 


PAUL    AND    VIRGINIA.  217 

Madame  de  la  Tour  then  related  to  me  her  dream 
which  was  exactly  the  same  as  Margaret's  in  every 
particular ;  and  as  I  had  never  observed  in  either 
of  these  ladies  any  propensity  to  superstition,  I  was 
struck  with  the  singular  coincidence  of  their  dreams, 
and  I  felt  convinced  that  they  would  soon  be  re- 
alized. The  belief  that  future  events  are  sometimes 
revealed  to  us  during  sleep,  is  one  that  is  widely 
diffused  among  the  nations  of  the  earth.  The 
greatest  men  of  antiquity  have  had  faith  in  it ; 
among  whom  may  be  mentioned  Alexander  the 
Great,  Julius  Caesar,  the  Scipios,  the  two  Catos,  and 
Brutus,  none  of  whom  were  weak-minded  persons. 
Both  the  Old  and  the  New  Testament  furnish  us 
with  numerous  instances  of  dreams  that  came  to  pass. 
As  for  myself,  I  need  only,  on  this  subject,  appeal  to 
my  experience,  as  I  have  more  than  once  had  good 
reason  to  believe  that  superior  intelligences,  who 
interest  themselves  in  our  welfare,  communicate 
with  us  in  these  visions  of  the  night.  Things  which 
surpass  the  light  of  human  reason  cannot  be  proved 
by  arguments  derived  from  that  reason ;  but  still, 
if  the  mind  of  man  is  an  image  of  that  of  God, 
since  man  can  make  known  his  will  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth  by  secret  missives,  may  not  the  Supreme 
Intelligence  which  governs  the  universe  employ 
similar  means  to  attain  a  like  end  ?  One  friend  con- 
soles another  by  a  letter,  which,  after  passing 
through  many  kingdoms,  and  being  in  the  hands 
19 


218  PAUL    AND   VIRGINIA. 

of  various  individuals  at  enmity  with  each  other, 
brings  at  last  joy  and  hope  to  the  breast  of  a  single 
human  being.  May  not  in  like  manner  the  Sovereign 
Protector  of  innocence  come  in  some  secret  way, 
to  the  help  of  a  virtuous  soul,  which  puts  its  trust 
in  Him  alone  ?  Has  He  occasion  to  employ  visible 
means  to  effect  his  purpose  in  this,  whose  ways  are 
hidden  in  all  his  ordinary  works? 

Why  should  we  doubt  the  evidence  of  dreams  ? 
for  what  is  our  life,  occupied  as  it  is  with  vain  and 
fleeting  imaginations,  other  than  a  prolonged  vision 
of  the  night? 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  this  in  general,  on 
the  present  occasion  the  dreams  of  my  friends  were 
soon  realized.  Paul  expired  two  months  after  the 
death  of  his  Virginia,  whose  name  dwelt  on  his  lips 
in  his  expiring  moments.  About  a  week  after  the 
death  of  her  son,  Margaret  saw  her  last  hour  ap- 
proach with  that  serenity  which  virtue  only  can 
feel.  She  bade  Madame  de  la  Tour  a  most  tender 
farewell,  "in  the  certain  hope,"  she  said,  "of  a 
delightful  and  eternal  re-union.  Death  is  the 
greatest  of  blessings  to  us,"  added  she,  "and  we 
ought  to  desire  it.  If  life  be  a  punishment,  we 
should  wish  for  its  termination ;  if  it  be  a  trial,  we 
should  be  thankful  that  it  is  short." 

The  governor  took  care  of  Domingo  and  Mary, 
who  were  no  longer  able  to  labour,  and  who  sur- 
vived their  mistresses  but  a  short  time.  As  for 


PAUL    AND    VIEGINIA.  219 

poor  Fidele,  he  pined  to  death,  soon  after  he  had 
lost  his  master. 

I  afforded  an  asylum  in  my  dwelling  to  Madame 
de  la  Tour,  who  bore  up  under  her  calamities  with 
incredible  elevation  of  mind.  She  had  endea- 
voured to  console  Paul  and  Margaret  till  their  last 
moments,  as  if  she  herself  had  no  misfortunes  of  her 
own  to  bear.  When  they  were  no  more,  she  used  to 
talk  to  me  every  day  of  them  as  of  beloved  friends, 
who  were  still  living  near  her.  She  survived  them 
however,  but  one  month.  Far  from  reproaching 
her  aunt  for  the  afflictions  she  had  caused,  her  benign 
spirit  prayed  to  God  to  pardon  her,  and  to  appease 
that  remorse  which  we  heard  began  to  torment  her, 
as  soon  as  she  had  sent  Virginia  away  with  so  much 
inhumanity. 

Conscience,  that  certain  punishment  of  the  guilty, 
visited  with  all  its  terrors  the  mind  of  this  unna- 
tural relation.  So  great  was  her  torment,  that  life 
and  death  became  equally  insupportable  to  her. 
Sometimes  she  reproached  herself  with  the  un- 
timely fate  of  her  lovely  niece,  and  with  the  death 
of  her  mother,  which  had  immediately  followed  it. 
At  other  times  she  congratulated  herself  for  having 
repulsed  far  from  her  two  wretched  creatures,  who, 
she  said,  had  both  dishonoured  their  family  by 
their  grovelling  inclinations.  Sometimes,  at  the 
sight  of  the  many  miserable  objects  with  which 
Paris  abounds,  she  would  fly  into  a  rage,  and  ex- 


220  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

claim, — "  Why  are  not  these  idle  people  sent  off  to 
the  colonies?"  As  for  the  notions  of  humanity, 
virtue  and  religion,  adopted  by  all  nations,  she 
said,  they  were  only  the  inventions  of  their  rulers, 
to  serve  political  purposes.  Then,  flying  all  at 
once  to  the  other  extreme,  she  abandoned  herself 
to  superstitious  terrors,  which  filled  her  with 
mortal  fears.  She  would  then  give  abundant  alms 
to  the  wealthy  ecclesiastics  who  governed  her,  be- 
seeching them  to  appease  the  wrath  of  God  by  the 
sacrifice  of  her  fortune, — as  if  the  offering  to  Him 
of  the  wealth  she  had  withheld  from  the  misera- 
ble could  please  her  Heavenly  Father!  In  her 
imagination  she  often  beheld  fields  of  fire,  with 
burning  mountains,  wherein  hideous  spectres  wan- 
dered about,  loudly  calling  on  her  by  name.  She 
threw  herself  at  her  confessor's  feet,  imagining 
every  description  of  agony  and  torture ;  for  Heaven 
— -just  Heaven,  always  sends  to  the  cruel  the  most 
frightful  views  of  religion  and  a  future  state. 

Atheist,  thus,  and  fanatic  in  turn,  holding  both 
life  and  death  in  equal  horror,  she  lived  on  for 
several  years.  But  what  completed  the  torments 
of  her  miserable  existence,  was  that  very  object  to 
which  she  had  sacrificed  every  natural  affection. 
She  was  deeply  annoyed  at  perceiving  that  her 
fortune  must  go,  at  her  death,  to  relations  whom 
she  hated,  and  she  determined  to  alienate  as  much 
of  it  as  she  could.  They,  however,  taking  advan- 


PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA.  221 

tage  of  her  frequent  attacks  of  low  spirits,  caused 
her  to  be  secluded  as  a  lunatic,  and  her  affairs  to  be 
put  into  the  hands  of  trustees.  Her  wealth,  thus 
completed  her  ruin ;  and,  as  the  possession  of  it 
had  hardened  her  own  heart,  so  did  its  anticipation 
corrupt  the  hearts  of  those  who  coveted  it  from  her. 
At  length  she  died ;  and,  to  crown  her  misery,  she 
retained  reason  enough  at  last  to  be  sensible  that 
she  was  plundered  and  despised  by  the  very  persons 
whose  opinions  had  been  her  rule  of  conduct  during 
her  whole  life. 

On  the  same  spot,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  same 
shrubs  as  his  Virginia,  was  deposited  the  body  of 
Paul;  and  round  about  them  lie  the  remains  of 
their  tender  mothers  and  their  faithful  servants. 
No  marble  marks  the  spot  of  their  humble  graves, 
no  inscription  records  their  virtues ;  but  their  memo- 
ry is  engraven  upon  the  hearts  of  those  whom  they 
have  befriended,  in  indelible  characters.  Their 
spirits  have  no  need  of  the  pomp,  which  they 
shunned  during  their  life ;  but  if  they  still  take 
an  interest  in  what  passes  upon  earth,  they  no 
doubt  love  to  wander  beneath  the  roofs  of  these 
humble  dwellings,  inhabited  by  industrious  virtue, 
to  console  poverty  discontented  with  its  lot,  to 
cherish  in  the  hearts  of  lovers  the  sacred  flame  of 
fidelity,  and  to  inspire  a  taste  for  the  blessings  of 
nature,  a  love  of  honest  labour,  and  a  dread  of  the 
allurements  of  riches. 


222  PAUL   AND   VIRGINIA. 

The  voice  of  the  people,  which  is  often  silert  with 
regard  to  the  monuments  raised  to  kings,  has  given 
to  some  parts  of  this  island  names  which  will  im- 
mortalize the  loss  of  Virginia.  Near  the  isle  of 
Amber,  in  the  midst  of  sandbanks,  is  a  spot  called 
The  Pass  of  the  Saint-Geran,  from  the  name  of  the 
vessel  which  was  there  lost.  The  extremity  of  that 
point  of  land  which  you  see  yonder,  three  leagues 
off,  half  covered  with  water,  and  which  the  Sain1>Ge- 
ran  could  not  double  the  night  before  the  hurricane, 
is  called  the  Cape  of  Misfortune ;  and  before  us, 
at  the  end  of  the  valley,  is  the  Bay  of  the  Tomb, 
where  Virginia  was  found  buried  in  the  sand ;  as 
if  the  waves  had  sought  to  restore  her  corpse  to  her 
family,  that  they  might  render  it  the  last  sad  duties 
on  those  shores  where  so  many  years  of  her  inno- 
cent life  had  been  passed. 

Joined  thus  in  death,  ye  faithful  lovers,  who 
were  so  tenderly  united  !  unfortunate  mothers  !  be- 
loved family !  these  woods  which  sheltered  you  with 
their  foliage, — these  fountains  which  flowed  for 
you, — these  hill-sides  upon  which  you  reposed,  still 
deplore  your  loss  !  No  one  has  since  presumed  to 
cultivate  that  desolate  spot  of  land,  or  to  rebuild 
those  humble  cottages.  Your  goats  are  become 
wild  :  your  orchards  are  destroyed ;  your  birds  are 
all  fled,  and  nothing  is  heard  but  the  cry  of  the 
sparrow-hawk,  as  it  skims  in  quest  of  prey  around 
this  rocky  basin.  As  for  myself,  since  I  have  ceased 


PAUL    AND    VIRGINIA.  223 

to  behold  you,  I  have  felt  friendless  and  alone,  like 
a  father  bereft  of  his  children,  or  a  traveller  who 
wanders  by  himself  over  the  face  of  the  earth.' 

Ending  with  these  words,  the  good  old  man  re- 
tired, bathed  in  tears;  and -my  own,  too,  had 
flowed  more  than  once  during  this  melancholy 
recital. 


THE   END. 


,.^.S.UJ..HIR»N_REGIONAI-  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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